Blood & Dust
by Afina-Aurora
Summary: A strange spell, a mysterious dark wizard with Voldemort, and Harry Potter’s return to Hogwarts. Where has he been? and why is he returning? And will Snape be able to figure it all out in time? Severitus Challenge subplot
1. Chapter 1 And Curses Abound

Disclaimer: The world & Characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and not to me.  
Rating: PG-13 for some violence  
Description: Action-Adventure/Drama/Mystery  
A strange spell, a mysterious dark wizard, and Harry Potter's return to Hogwarts. Where has he been? and why is he returning? That's just what Snape wants to know.

_**Blood & Dust**__  
Chapter 1: And Curses Abound_

**Part 1: Message in the stars & Mysterious strangers**

It was cold, far colder than it should have been so late in July. The wet sticky fog which clung to their hands and legs probably did not help with the cold, but at least it wasn't raining. The biting air sent a chill through him, but Severus Snape was not one to shiver. Ignoring the urge to wrap his cloak more firmly around himself, the Death Eater turned spy kept his eyes forward, his gaze steady on the shadowy figures before him, missing nothing. The fog made it difficult to see, but it also aided their secrecy, hiding them from those who waited within the large house ahead. For what seemed the hundredth time that evening, Snape attempted to formulate a half decent plan. The moment they had received their orders his mind had been hard at work, but he had not had much time to think. They had been summoned, given their instructions and sent to apparate before the home of their intended victims. His largest obstacle was the fact he was working nearly in the dark. The only information he had was the name of their target. He and the other six Death Eaters had arrived to find their 'lord' already in the company of one of his most trusted. This man, the one they were following now, was the only among them who knew exactly what they were doing.

Surveying the shadowy figures before him, he decided the fog could work to _his_ benefit as well. Perhaps it would cause enough confusion for his 'fellow' Death Eaters to fail to realize just who it was who had cursed them when the need arose. He tightened his grip on his wand, his fingers having gone quite numb from the cold. If he was going to act he would have to do it soon, before they reached the house. He smiled a thin lipped grimace without humor, if he timed it just right he could yell a 'warning' as the curses began to hit, and he thought, black eyes narrowed, perhaps the word auror would help.

The house they stood before was large and very old. The family within were unlike most of their victims, they were purebloods of the oldest kind. The man was however, the son of a former auror. An auror who had been very active in the 'old days' putting several of their ranks in Azkaban and many more in their graves. But this still did not explain why the man was a target. The man in question worked for the Ministry, somewhere in the Mysteries branch, but his position was not of importance, in fact he was under a handful of others and were he to be killed it would not hurt the Ministry in the least. Over the last few years Voldemort had become more quiet, less quick to reveal himself. He seemed to be waiting for something, gathering his strength and acting with more caution. This was why Snape failed to see the reason he would bother with a revenge killing that would not even be felt, after all the man's auror father had been dead these past ten years. There had to be another reason for the attack.

Lifting his eyes to the house, its dark frame looming ahead through the fog, he thought of the occupants. Anyone in the house with their target would be tortured and finally killed as well. Snape knew the man was married and he also knew they had several children. Two of which he was fairly positive attended Hogwarts. Thomas Mar's family was in terrible danger tonight, and they were most likely fast asleep. If the attack had only been planned a month before, he wouldn't have had the children to worry about as well, they would have been safe at school. Images of the children appeared unbidden in his mind. The oldest was in Gryffindor, a fourth year named Crispen. No, he corrected himself, in a month he will be a fifth year. Mar's daughter Holly also attended the school and she would be a second year soon. Banishing the images, Snape hoped he would not be adding their faces to his conscious this night or any other.

"We go in the back," the man's voice was as cold as the night air, perhaps colder, "they'll be upstairs." He turned toward the black cloaked men behind him, "You four will follow me," he gestured toward the closest men, "and you three will continue down the hall and deal with the children." The man's voice held excitement when he said the word children, causing Snape's stomach to churn, "Stun the youngest two," _then they have a third child_, Severus thought absently, _one too young to attend Hogwarts_, "however, kill the oldest. But not too quickly, we want to leave a lasting impression."

The speaker was a dangerous man, a dark wizard who called himself Morté, and whom Snape suspected to be slightly mad. Of course nearly all who had returned from Azkaban seemed rather insane in one way or another, why would this wizard be any different. He had turned up at Voldemort's side five years ago when the Dementors had abandoned the prison and joined the Dark Lord. Some whispered he was a Dementor, but the potions master found this highly unlikely. No, it was more likely he was merely a very psychotic wizard. The cruel man was one of Voldemort's closest followers, and had been the Death Eater awaiting them in the dark lord's presence. He alone knew the reason they were there, and he apparently was going to keep it that way.

They were moving toward the house now, and Snape knew that if he was going to stop this with any chance at remaining alive and not giving himself away, he would need to act now. Raising his wand he began, but the curse he was about to utter died upon his lips as a blast of freezing damp air nearly flung him from his feet. The men to his left were not half as lucky, as both were knocked painfully to the ground by the blast. His arm before his face, Snape blocked what he could of the stinging wind. As quickly as it had happened it ended and the air around him stilled. Lowering his arm, he snarled in annoyed anger, '_what now_!' he thought. But whatever he had expected was not what he saw.

The sight before him gave him pause. The fog was gone, or more accurately it had been pushed back to form a ring around them. Standing at the edge of the fog, between the house and the Death Eaters, were three figures. The man in the middle, for there was no doubt of his gender, was huge. He easily topped Snape's own height and looked the type who could easily snap a man's neck with his bare hands. The figure to his left, although almost as tall as the huge man was nowhere near as broad in the shoulders. Standing with his back straight he held not a wand in his right fist, but a six and a half foot staff. The figure to the right was much smaller than his companions, but perhaps it was an optical illusion because of the giant's height. He was smaller in stature and build than the other men, but something about him caused Snape to suspect this was the person to worry about. The air around him seemed almost charged with magic and the pressure seemed to be building.

There was something definitely worrying about the three, and it was not the fact that they had appeared from nowhere, most wizards could apparate. Nor was it the fact that they had blasted the fog away and were seemingly able to keep it that way. What did bother him was that they stood between the Mar home and the Death Eaters and that could not be coincidence. Were they there to help or hinder? and if they were there to stop them, did they know about him? He doubted it. Not many knew he was working as a spy; it would have been too dangerous otherwise. Gripping his wand he prepared himself, he did not relish the idea of being killed by 'friendly fire' and would defend himself if nothing else. Then another thought came to him, if these three had been sent by the Ministry, he might have to intervene in the end anyway. They would most likely turn out to be another set of inept fools, and he would have to put a stop to the attack after they failed. He had no idea who these people were and saw no reason why he should put any faith in this trio. If not for the mask he wore, his dark expression would have caused even the Death Eaters beside him to step back.

There was something extremely disturbing about the three. They were odd to say the least, and did not look like Aurors or any other normal wizard. All three were dressed in the exact same manner. They did not wear robes, instead they were clothed in what appeared to be bluish-silver tight fitting battle tunics, light gray snug pants for free movement and a dark gray sleeveless coat-cloak. Their outfits however, as unorthodox as they were, was not what made the trio so unsettling. It was their faces. They did not have any, only black gaping holes where features should have been.

"Hold!" the middle figure held out a hand, "come no further," the voice was booming and the accent was...American?

Morté was not still for long, hissing he flung back his cloak and raised an ebony wand. "You think I will be-" But Snape's ears had ceased to hear him as the strange scene began to unfold before him.

For reasons he would probably never understand, the tall staff bearing figure spun backward and to the right, rolling off his huge companion's back to stand on his other side. At the same moment, the smaller figure had slipped easily to the left, beneath the large man's wand, to slide into the staff bearer's vacated place, directly across from Snape himself. Raising his staff, the tall wizard slammed it into the ground, both hands gripping the wood he raised his head and screamed, "Lignum-scipio magia attraho!"

Enraged, the dark wizard nearly attacked the Death Eaters beside him, "What are you waiting for? Kill them!"

Six curses were uttered instantaneously. The spells burst from their castors wands like tendrils of smoke, only to be pulled slowly backward by an invisible force. The dark smoke like curses rolled in on themselves, curling into tight orbs of magic. Pausing before their wands, the curses slowed down dramatically, rolling over themselves until they crept to a halt. They seemed to almost hover before the wizards who had cast them. In that instant, Snape felt as if time had slowed to a crawl. He raised his hand and was momentarily surprised to see his limb move freely. Only the six curses appeared to be affected. He watched in horrid fascination as they began to move once more. Rolling in place all six began to rotate away from their wands. Gaining in speed, the curses suddenly shot outward toward the waiting trio. Flying forward all six spells paused as one and then quickly veered to the right to converge on the staff bearer, or rather the upright staff standing before him.

The moment the six spells were absorbed into the staff, the American flicked his wand, "ligare," the spell hit the Death Eater directly before him. Arms and legs were dragged together by magical bindings, the man struggled and fell to the side.

"Incendio!" "Gelu Ventus!" The Death Eaters on either side of Morté had recovered quick enough to blast another set of spells at the strangers. A writhing flame shot toward the smallest of the trio, while a blast of freezing wind tore its way to the American. Not waiting to see the outcome, the dark wizard hissed his own attack, "Dorcha beithíoch."

The magic flame burst through the cold air, leaving snatches of hot mist in its wake. The gray cloaked figure remained perfectly still as it approached, and when Severus was positive the idiot had frozen in fear, the stranger made his move. No flick of wand, no word of protection, but a well calculated dive at the last second and he rolled smoothly to his feet, the flame hitting something in the mist behind him. His dark eyes darting back to the right, Snape watched the American handle the wind in a far different manner than his smaller companion had dealt with the flame. Bringing his wand down in a slashing motion he growled, "dilamino circumduco." The wind split in half and swept past him on either side, whipping his cloak into a frenzy as it passed.

A dangerous growl and a hard laugh brought all eyes to the dark wizard; before him stood a large dark beast. There was no better way of describing it. Half the size of a man and just as broad, the creature seemed to be made of shifting shadows. Large yellow lamp like eyes turned toward the three strange wizards. Digging its massive paws into the ground it leapt toward them, a shower of earth spraying the Death Eaters as it charged. "Bloody hell!" this from the staff bearer, marking him as most assuredly British. A blur of gray and a glint of silver, and the smallest of the trio met the beast with a cold fury. The creature roared in surprise as the thin silver sword left a large gash in its shoulder. Leaping forward it lashed out with one huge paw, attempting to catch its attacker with savage claws. Stepping lightly to the side, the sword wielder flowed like water as it passed him. The blade flashed in the moonlight, once, twice and then the creature spun back to meet this zealous quarry, bright white slashes standing out on its side.

"Obscurus!" Now that the sword wielder had his back to them, the Death Eater behind him took the initiative and attacked.

Dropping to the ground, sword tucked carefully, he rolled clear of the curse to flow effortlessly to his feet. Realizing he had been holding his breath, Snape exhaled with a sneer, '_Perhaps less theatrics would do_,' he thought, '_the fool barely avoided that one_.' And then he realized why he had waited to move, the beast had not had enough time to avoid the curse, and had been struck blind by it.

Moving in quickly, he slashed a clean line down the creature's side. Spinning to meet the confused beast, he slipped to one knee as it reared back on its hind legs. The sword met the creature's chest as it descended, and he thrust upward impaling it to the hilt. A howl of pain echoed among them as the beast shattered into a thousand tiny flashes of light.

Snape decided it was time to do something, if he failed to throw a single curse there would be problems later. Pointing his wand at the largest of the strangers, "Stupefy," he spat. '_And if you can't block that_,' he thought smugly, '_you don't deserve to_.' The man did not disappoint.

Morté was seething, he raised his wand, but whatever awful spell he was about to cast never left his lips. The staff bearer, who had remained still after his initial spell, had moved to action once more. Both hands gripping the staff, its end pointed toward the center of the Death Eaters, he slipped one foot backward as if to brace himself and then screamed, "Lignum-scipio magia eluvies!"

Snape had a brief moment to wonder if the man did anything other than scream, before he found himself under a very deadly assault.

The staff glowed a dark and angry blue gray and then it seemed to explode. The wizard holding the staff slid several feet backward as six curses zipped out from the end pointed toward them. The Death Eaters who had cast the spells had a few seconds to pale in remembrance of what they did. Two of the six sped toward Snape, and he briefly wondered if this counted as 'friendly fire.'

"Umbra gustos," the words sounded as if they had been whispered in his ear. Blinking, Snape watched as a dark shape flowed out of the ground before him to deflect both of the curses. '_Who_?' he glanced around trying to find his savior, but a yell brought his eyes back to the trio.

"Dammit!" the staff bearer flew past the American to skid to a halt beside the smallest of their party who was currently lying in a crumpled ball on the ground.

The American threw his hands up quickly, moving his wand in a circle, "Contego!" he swept his arms out wide. He shot the other man a glance, "Damn it Smyth, are you trying to get us killed?"

Three curses were flung toward them, but each sizzled and sparked as they struck an invisible shield protecting the trio. Smyth looked up from where he kneeled beside his fallen companion, "What should I have done, ignored _this_!" he yelled back angrily, pointing a finger at the shivering form.

Morté growled at the Death Eaters who had been hit by the returned curses, "Fools!" but Snape did not think the man had any right to criticize, having not faired any better with his attack.

Two new figures stepped out from the fog to join the American. "Tis done," a decidedly feminine voice announced happily as they approached they group. The second figure paused at the sight of their fallen member, and then stepped swiftly to his side. Pushing the other man out of the way this new companion bent to lift his fallen comrade.

"Just what do you bloody think you're doing?" Snape heard Smyth's loud complaint easily.

The response was harder to hear, "What does it look like you stupid git." He lifted the smaller form into his arms, "I'm being useful, now let's go." Turning away, he disapparated with his fallen companion clutched tightly to his chest.

The woman pulled something out of her pocket, "hurry home," she winked and then was gone.

"Can't hold it much longer," the American grunted, as several more curses fizzled against his shield.

Smyth turned but then paused, raising his staff toward the sky he called out, "Signum Draco!" A bright light burst forth and sped toward the sky. The man looked back at them, and by the way he stood, Snape would have sworn there was a smirk hiding beyond the black void of his face.

Looking up as the two disapparated, Snape was greeted with the sight of a golden dragon branded high in the stars, exactly where the dark mark would have been. '_Well_,' Severus decided, '_they're definitely not from the Ministry then_.'

_**Part 2: Blood & Dust**_

Being one of the only members of the party still standing, Snape had the '_honor_' of accompanying Morté into the Mar residence. The Death Eater who had been hit by the American's binding spell, the dark wizard released. The four who had been hit by the returned curses however, he left where they had fallen, stepping over a few with what looked like contempt. Severus frowned slightly, whoever had cast the _Shadow Guard_ had saved him that indignity at least. He knew it had not been any of the dark cloaked wizards beside him, which only left the strange trio. This thought was even more disturbing; it meant they had not only known he was spying for the Ministry, but also who he was behind his mask. The question now was, why did these strangers know about him when he had no idea who they were? Mulling this new mystery over in his mind, Severus followed the Dark Wizard into the large house.

It was extremely quiet and dark. Moving quickly to the stair, Morté raced to the top and immediately flung open the first door he came upon. Stepping in behind him, Snape was relieved to see it empty. The Dark Wizard was not. Shoving past Snape, the man stormed down the hallway, throwing doors open as he swept past. Rounding on a room, he paused and then entered. Walking slowly down the hallway, the Potions Master could hear objects smashing in the room ahead. Cursing accompanied the many thuds and smashes. Stopping in the doorway, he watched the dark wizard throw items with a frenzy as he searched a large desk beside the window. Growling in barely suppressed rage Morté placed both hands beneath the top of the desk and flipped it. Smashing into the wall the desk crashed noisily into the ground. His hand shaking the enraged wizard pointed his wand and spit out a string of unintelligible words. The desk exploded. Lowering his arm, Snape looked back to the crazed man.

Morté stood at the edge of a gaping hole to the outside. Spinning back toward Severus he brushed his robes off. Several pieces of splintered wood didn't brush away, and the man pulled them from his flesh with an eerie nonchalance. Dropping a particularly bloody three inch splinter, he rounded on Snape, "Get the ones who are alive and tell the Dark Lord what happened." He stalked the room, "I'll finish here."

Nodding, Snape moved away from the door and strode purposefully back the way he had come until he was standing in the fog once again. Whatever spell the strange trio had cast on the fog seemed to have faded and it took him a few moments to locate the Death Eaters. Sweeping arrogantly toward them, he glanced briefly toward the two unmoving forms on the ground and then turned his attention to the remaining four. One of them stood with his arm dangling at an odd angle and another seemed to be choking quietly beside him. Ignoring them, he fixed his robes, "I hope all of you can still apparate," he did not even try to mask the sneer in his voice, "because I would hate to have to walk back to our 'lord'." The one who was choking let out a little whimper. Kicking the dead men to be sure they were no longer among the living, he turned to the two healthy Death Eaters, "Take care of that rubbish. We have to leave before the aurors get here."

A wand was lifted, "Incendio." A second wand, "Incendio." The spells were repeated on the second corpse, and they stood in the stench of burning flesh, watching the bodies turn black within the magic flames. A morbid curiosity caught Snape as he watched the fire consume the bodies. They had not removed the Death Eater masks, and he wondered just who it was they were burning into unrecognizable piles of ash. The fate of stupidity he thought. Perhaps one day he would not return and Dumbledore would wonder what had become of him. Kicking the ashes he almost laughed, the old fool would probably bury an empty coffin at an almost as vacant funeral.

The four were watching him, he snarled softly, "Let's go then," and disapparated from the Mar's property.

The familiar cold feeling he associated with Voldemort entered his body as he felt the air being pulled from his lungs. Drawing his breath, he consciously filled his chest with the scathing frost. Fighting the urge to cough, he concentrated on the dark shapes appearing beside him. The air was foul; the pungent aroma of blood left too long filled the room with the scent of death and decay. Dark eyes scanned the room slowly stopping on a crumpled figure in the corner. The source of the smell he decided. The body was small, and child like, Snape averted his gaze before his stomach turned against him. The flickering lights above did little to illuminate the room, causing instead, long shadows to dance menacingly along the walls and floor. At the center of the room, seated in a high backed chair, sat the enemy of the wizarding world. Curled up at his feet, his forehead resting against his master's boot, lay the shivering form of Peter Pettigrew.

Dropping to his knees, Snape prostrated himself before the Dark Wizard. Waiting for the other to speak he crushed any emotion he might have felt with practiced ease. A strengthening calm settled like a comforting aura around him, pushing all other emotion away. His breathing deepened and he became unaware of the freezing air as it stabbed his lungs like tiny needles. His head felt blissfully light and he allowed himself a small smile behind his mask. The dark figures beside him were shaking, they had failed and knew they would be punished. His lips twitched again, they had failed, but _he_ had not. No punishment Voldemort inflicted upon him would ruin his mood now. The entire Mar family was safe, and whatever Morté had been searching so desperately for was missing as well. Severus did not share his dark cloaked companions' fear of returning to Voldemort from a failed mission. He could handle the physical pain; it was a far cry easier than facing himself after a successful Death Eater raid. The days he returned to Hogwarts aching and bloody were well fought for, the times he returned unscathed were dreaded. Facing an enraged Dark Lord was almost a comfort now.

"I thought I sent seven of you with Morté." It was not a question, and Snape knew better than to answer. There was a soft whimper from the chair's direction, and the Potions Master wondered if Wormtail had been kicked or simply pushed to the side. "Tell me then, why you are short two members of your party?"

That had been a question. Preparing to speak, he found the fool to his left had beaten him to it. "M..my l..lo..lord, we were a..attacked," he stammered. _Wrong approach_, Snape warned silently, _he's more likely to punish without even listening if you stutter like an adolescent_. "They were waiting for us wh..when we a..arrived."

He could feel what little warmth there had been in the room drain away, _that is that then_, the ex-Death Eater decided silently. He knew if he lifted his eyes he would see the cold fury on Voldemort's face, his blood red eyes glowing softly, his cruel lips bared to show sharp canines. There was a rustle of robes, and Snape felt the material brush against his wrist, blood and dust filled his nostrils. Breathing through his mouth, he felt rather than saw the Dark Lord standing over him, a damp chill seeping into his bones. There was a low whimper, a loud popping crunch and then a soft anguished cry. "Explain," the command was soft and deadly, it spoke volumes, demanding and threatening at the same time.

As much as he did not want to gain the Dark Wizard's attention, Snape composed himself a second time, "We apparated to the designated place," his voice was calm and he spoke as if he were sharing a cup of tea with a colleague, "however, before we reached the house a group of wizards attacked us. They were dressed strangely, and did not seem like aurors. One fought with a staff which seemed to be able to absorb and discharge spells cast at them, and another used a sword to slay a beast Morté summoned. They were highly adept and informed. Two of our numbers were slain by the staff bearer returning curses we ourselves had cast." Snape paused, there was no reply so he continued, "After one of their number fell they disapparated. We checked the house, it was empty. Morté stayed behind to finish searching, but he sent us back."

There was a long silence through which he could hear himself breathing, the soft cries beside him lowering to ragged moans. The stiff cloth shifted against his wrist, brushing his arm and face. _And now my reward_, he thought, keeping himself completely still beneath that cold red gaze, refusing to flinch back from the scratchy material on his cheek. "There now," the voice was cold but not entirely angry, "why can't the rest of you answer like that." Not a question, Snape automatically reminded. "If even half of you were anything like Severus we would not be having this conversation." _No_, the Potions Master agreed, _we'd be taking turns spitting on your grave_. He felt the robe shifting again, a wet cracking near him and a howl of agony.

The soft footsteps sounded near his head, the robe pooled over his hands and arms. Thin fingers entirely too long touched his head, slipped into his hair. He felt his head jerked back, the Dark Lord was crouched beside him. For one agonizing minute Snape thought he had spoken his thoughts aloud, but the red eyes looked almost lazy as they stared into his black. "I will punish the rest, but not you Severus, not tonight." He held a bloody finger in his free hand, "I will expect answers on these new wizards, I want you to remember every last detail." He let go of his hair, dropping the finger into the dark haired man's hands, "and I expect you to be very forthcoming."

_**Part 3: No Answers, just more questions**_

Walking up the flight of stone steps, Snape threw open the heavy oak doors and entered Hogwarts. There was no doubt in his mind that the Headmaster would be waiting for him, refusing to sleep until he had returned. Moving briskly through the entrance hall, he made his way to the second floor where a stone gargoyle waited down an empty corridor. His long stride brought him before the gargoyle, "Pepper Imps," he made a face at the ridiculous password, slipping past the still sliding gargoyle to climb the curved staircase behind it. Pausing at the door, he lifted a fist to knock, but was greeted by the soft words of the Headmaster, "Come in Severus, I'm glad you have returned."

Entering the warm atmosphere of the office, Snape lowered himself into the chair opposite the older wizard. The Headmaster placed a cup of tea before him and waited patiently. Accepting the offering, Snape drank deeply, letting the tea warm him. Leaning back he held the cup in his hands, and allowed himself to simply breathe in the scent of Earl Grey. Pushing away the remnants of blood and dust he inhaled a second time, banishing the smells completely. Dumbledore smiled, "I take it everything went well?"

He set the cup down, time to get back to work. "He sent us to kill a family." The Headmaster's eyebrows shot up, the younger wizard held up a hand to forestall any comments, "The Mars," Snape frowned, he still had no clue as to why, "Albus do you know what Thomas Mar has been working on?"

"I am afraid I do not."

He nodded his dark head absently, "Hmm, well see if you can find out, I'm sure it has everything to do with why the Dark Lord wants him dead. Morte was searching for something in his desk." The Potions Master turned his thoughts back to the night's events, "You'll be pleased to know the attack was unsuccessful." He steepled his fingers together absently, "We apparated onto the Mar residence, but before we reached the house a group of strange wizards stopped us. I have never seen them before Albus, they did not appear to be Aurors and they were dressed oddly." He paused, "And they did not seem to have faces, only a black void where their faces should have been. I assume some sort of spell. There were three to begin with, a large American, a tall man who used a staff instead of a wand, I believe they called him Smyth, and one who used a sword." He turned his mind backward, "The staff was able to absorb the curses the Death Eaters cast and then send them back upon command." Black eyes met cool blue, "Do you know anything about them?"

Dumbledore shook his head, "I have not heard news of a new group opposing Voldemort, perhaps the Ministry-" Snape snorted, "-is involved."

"Excuse me for being blunt Headmaster," he picked up his cup and frowned at the absence of tea, "but the Ministry is filled with fools and dreamers who wish they could still pretend the Dark Lord never returned." He placed the empty cup back angrily.

Blue eyes twinkled merrily, "Ah Severus, they are not that bad I think."

A raised eyebrow, "Four years ago you would have agreed."

"But that was four years ago, things are different in the Ministry now."

Long fingers toyed with the rim of the tea cup, turning it slightly on the desk, "Hardly," he released the cup, scowling, "Weasley and Moody maybe, but that still leaves the rest of the Ministry to muck up everything they've done." He glared at the traitorous cup as if he could frighten tea into it. "And they aren't all as stupid as they seem, I would bet several officials are sporting dark marks under those robes."

Dumbledore leaned forward and poured more tea into the empty cup, "Now now, that is for another day."

He held the cup, reveling in the warmth, "Yes," he nodded, returning to his story as if he had never interrupted it, "I believe the three we fought were just a distraction. They held us up long enough to remove the Mars from their home. When they were joined by two more, they left promptly. I heard a woman with an Irish accent say something about _it being done_. When we checked the house it was empty."

"Then perhaps they have taken the family somewhere safe?"

Snape nodded absently, then another thought occurred to him, "Also, before the wizards disapparated, one of them cast a spell on the sky. Like the dark mark only a dragon." He pursed his lips, "It was a statement given mockingly." He tapped a finger against the hot cup in his hands, "We'll have to remember that, it may be important."

The Headmaster leaned back, "You sound as if you are as worried about these new allies as you are about Voldemort's plans."

He sighed, deciding to tell the older wizard the rest of it, "At one point two of the returned curses were flung back at me. Before I could do anything someone cast a _Shadow Guardian_ to protect me." Dumbledore was listening intently, his eyebrows raised, "It had to have been one of the three, which means they knew who I was and what I was doing there." Snape set his cup down, "How many people have you told about my spying?" it was not an accusation, merely a question.

"Only the Order Severus, you know that." He looked closely at the younger wizard, "How did Voldemort react to the news of your failure?"

Snape blinked, picking up the cup, "Better than I thought." He drank silently, "He wants a detailed description of the wizards we fought, sent me away without punishment."

The Headmaster seemed to relax at the news. The Potions Professor watched him carefully, he had changed the subject rather quickly, what was he hiding? "If you find anything out about Mar or these strange wizards you will let me know then?"

"Yes of course," Dumbledore assured, "I will make the proper inquiries and see what develops." Knowing their conversation was over, Snape stood and turned to leave, but was stopped at the door, "Severus."

His hand paused on the door handle, "Yes Albus."

"Try and get some sleep." He nodded and then swept out the door and down the stair. Heading toward the dungeons he glanced outside and was slightly startled to find the beginnings of soft morning light in the sky. He rubbed his eyes, and decided it was at times like these he was glad for the Summer Holiday.

_**Part 4: And my soul is damned...**_

The floor was hard and cold, but he lay on it without complaint. Curled in upon himself, his arms wrapped tightly around his sides, his legs drawn up to his chest, he shivered uncontrollably. Not from the cold, no he had become accustomed to the cold, it was from the scene which replayed itself over and over again in his head.

He had been called, he was never far away, a few rooms at the most, so he found his Master's side quickly. Joining him in the apparition chamber he was greeted by a strange sight. His Lord sat in his usual seat, Morté standing before him, but that was not what was odd. The insane wizard was often found standing beside their Lord, his hoarse whisper echoing hollowly throughout the chamber as he spoke of dark things to come. No, what Peter found strange were the small figures sitting behind them. They were slumped forward, heads bent toward the ground, arms lying limply at their sides. He had hurried to his Master, eyes darting back to the small figures sitting like strange dolls on the cold floor. Kneeling before his Lord he placed his forehead against the ground and waited. Inhumanly long fingers touched his shoulder applying pressure. Sharp pain gripped him as bony fingers dug into his flesh. Whimpering slightly, he felt the pressure lessen. _He likes it when I cry_, the man thought shivering slightly.

"Get up," he obeyed, "you will help Morté prepare a spell." He turned to the other wizard. "Do exactly as he says." He nodded wordlessly.

Blue eyes as cold as ice seemed to glow in excitement, "Pick one," he pointed to the doll like figures. Blinking, he moved toward the small forms, stopping before one randomly. The Dark Wizard was beside him in four strides, reaching down he grabbed the limp form. Lifting him by the scruff of the neck he beckoned Peter to follow him. Leading him to a corner of the room he placed his prize on a stone bench. Handing him a bowl, Morté yanked the small form's head back by his hair. Peter nearly dropped the bowl. The Dark Wizard held a child no older than five. He placed a thin bladed dirk against the child's throat, "Try and catch as much as you can," he hissed and then drew it across.

As Morté prepared the blood, Peter moved the rest of the children. There were seven left. They were all Muggle children, all under ten and all fated to become part of the Dark Wizard's spell. He did not know what Morté was doing with the blood and he failed to see how the Dark Lord used it. He did not return to his Master until after the Death Eaters he had summoned had departed with Morté. Moving back into the cold chamber, he fell to the ground beside the chair his Lord occupied. "I am pleased Wormtail, I will leave my children in your care."

He lay on the cold floor, his eyes watching the still body left forgotten in the corner. His forehead rested against his Master's boot, a drop of scarlet glinting wetly on the black surface. He never moved, not even when the Death Eaters apparated back in failure. Not even when his Master stood, his head slipping to the floor to lay in a sticky wet puddle. A low whimper escaped his throat, but he never moved.

_TBC _

_Who are those mysterious wizards?__Just what was __Morte__ looking for?__Is Dumbledore hiding something?__And just where is Harry?_

Read the next thrilling installment of Blood & Dust, where the answers to these and many other questions will _NOT_ be found!

Up Next: Chapter 2 "Of Tea & Nauseating Sweets"

Authors Notes:

Morté: the é is pronounced "ay" -- But you already knew that!And please excuse the bad latin & Gaelic in the spells: But if you can't, feel free to pretend Merlin was smoking crack when he wrote them.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and I hope you'll come back to read the next.


	2. Chapter 2 Of Tea and Nauseating Sweets

Disclaimer: The world & Characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and not to me.

Rating: PG-13 for some violence (and some cursing)  
Description: Action-Adventure/Drama/Mystery 

_Blood & Dust  
Chapter 2 Of Tea and Nauseating Sweets_

_**Part 1: Cauldron Cake in the wrong hands can be frightening...**_

He trudged slowly up the stairs, feeling for all the world as if he were heading toward his own execution. It was ridiculous to feel such trepidation; he had only been invited to tea after all. _Tea_, the very word instilled dread. To be called up to speak with the Headmaster was one thing, but it was altogether another to be invited to tea. He pressed his lips together and could not help but think there was an underlying reason the Headmaster wanted to speak with him. Perhaps it was his distrustful nature or perhaps it was that he knew the man so well. He frowned, the old wizard always did seem to try and soften world shattering revelations with tea and candy. His frown deepened and his steps slowed to a crawl. Snape wondered what horrid bit of information the older wizard would try and cushion with small talk. Tea indeed he thought angrily, remembering the last time he had been invited to 'tea'. Bad news always accompanied the Headmaster's tea, and when he tried to force sweets down your throat you knew the news would be worse. It was usually something that would upset or inconvenience him in some way, but a few times the news had been shocking. Those were the times he used candy.

It had barely been a week since their last 'appointment' so he doubted he wanted to speak to him about his Death Eater duties. He paused, unless he has discovered something about Mar or the dragon brigade. With no better name available, Snape had begun to mockingly refer to the strange group of wizards as 'the dragon brigade'. Dumbledore had seemed to take to the name quickly, using it whenever he referred to them, so it stuck. He sighed, deciding he should have thought before mentioning it to the Headmaster, after all what was he to expect from a man who belonged to _The Order of the Phoenix_? Now he was forced to use the stupid title when discussing them, and could not even blame it on someone else. He shook his head, no he would have called me up to his office, but would not have made an appointment. Unless the news about them was disturbing, he scowled, his thoughts dark.

No, he decided, it would be nothing so pleasant. The old man had some bit of news he knew Snape would find annoying or bothersome. He would depart it to him in his usual sickeningly cheerful manner.

Moving his legs again, he continued up. It was always harder to climb up stairs then it was to descend them. He wondered briefly if there was a metaphor to be found in that thought, knowing the answer he continued. He recalled several events which had invited him to tea in the past. The news of Remus Lupin's Professor status. The day he had been forced to accompany Black to the Ministry, he scowled angrily, and speak on his behalf. Why Dumbledore had sent _him_, was still a mystery. As if the word of an ex-Death Eater was better than the word of an escaped convict. That had nearly ended in disaster. If there had been a Dementor around he was sure both he and Black would now be much lighter in the soul department. He trusted Dumbledore, but that had been one of the times he was sure the old man had finally lost it.

There were also the darker times. The times the news had been grave. Draco Malfoy's death at the hands of his father had been one. They said it couldn't be proven, but he knew, there was no doubt in his mind. There had been a panic, at around the same time Potter had disappeared. The insufferable boy had been missing for three days, and had had the audacity to claim no memory of where or what he had been doing during those days. That entire fiasco had cost him three invitations for tea in the Headmaster's office. Once for Potter's disappearance, another when they had found Draco and the last when Potter had turned up miraculously unscathed. He had to admit he had wondered about whether or not Potter had been involved in Draco's death, the boy had been missing at exactly the right time. But after hearing Lucius confess to the murder of his wife and son, he had been horrified to feel relief. Potter was still the world's savior, he had not gone rogue.

He was nearly to the top now. He scowled faintly, trying to discern what the news could possibly be. If he was lucky it would be something inane the Headmaster thought would bother him, like being forced to share his office. Well that would be disturbing, but not life altering. Not world shattering in any case. He tried to be optimistic, it might be something trivial. He tried to think of something trivial the older wizard would invite him to tea over. Well Hart had yet to resign, so it could not be about the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Classes were not scheduled to begin for another month, so he doubted Dumbledore would give him the speech about trying not to frighten the piss out of the first years yet. He had already finished his lesson plans for the next term, so he would not be asking about that. He sighed, his hand on the door, well he would know soon enough.

Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, a smile playing on his face. "Ah Severus, come in. Sit down." He may be smiling Snape thought, but his voice sounds strained. Something has happened, something that has him extremely upset.

He sat in his usual seat, "You wanted to see me Headmaster?"

The older wizard smiled, but it did not reach his eyes, "Tea?" his reply was a grunt. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow but poured the tea anyway. Sitting back down he lifted a small silver tray and held it out. Snape stared in horror at what he saw. "Cauldron cake?" _No, oh no_. He blanched, shaking his head. Not just candy, cake! _Someone's died! I've been sacked. The Ministry wants me jailed. Voldemort knows I'm a spy. I'm to spend the year with Black_! The Headmaster did not seem to notice his rising panic. He placed the tray back on his desk and folded his hands. "I dare say I think it may rain." The lunacy of the statement pulled him back to his senses. He scowled, _as if I go outside_. He watched the older man, his eyes narrowed.

"Summer Holiday going well?" He blinked, _Oh yes, the club I belong to has kept me rather busy_, his mental reply was automatic. Staring at the Headmaster he groaned inwardly. Something must be wrong, he was launching into mindless small talk. When he did not answer Dumbledore nodded as if he had, "I presume you've finished your lesson plans for next term?" _I can see them on your desk_, he thought becoming irritated. He narrowed his eyes even more. The older wizard fiddled with some papers on his desk, "Ah yes, this coming term we are going to have an addition to the staff." _That's all_? Snape frowned, _unless it's Voldemort I don't see why he's so upset_. "Yes, I have decided to bring in an assistant for the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Snape stared at him, "An assistant?" his frown deepened to a scowl. If Hart was so incompetent that he needed an assistant then why had he not simply been sacked?

"Yes," the Headmaster smiled, "I thought it best." Reaching into a small candy dish he popped a lemon drop into his mouth. His hand moved to lift the dish, but Snape waved him off before he had the chance to offer.

_Candy now too_, he thought suddenly. A sick feeling settled into his stomach, "Who is it?" _Not Black_, he prayed silently.

A sadness entered his eyes, but was gone so quickly Snape was unsure if he had even seen it. Dumbledore smiled, "Starting this September, Mr. Harry Potter will be joining us once again at Hogwarts."

**_Part 2: It all comes back to that annoying boy..._**

Potter, he thought angrily, another year with Potter. The Potions Master stormed down the stairs. He was angry, yes, annoyed definitely, but the news should not have warranted Cauldron Cakes! _The old man is losing his touch, surely he doesn't think I would be so childish that he would need to coddle me_. _Tea and cake_, he snorted, _he could have saved himself the trouble and simply announced it at breakfast_.

It had been three years since Potter had attended Hogwarts, and about as long since Snape had seen him. The last time Potter had been to Hogwarts had been directly after his year had graduated. Not a week had passed before the horrid boy had come storming back to the school. Snape had thought himself rid of him, and yet there he had been, assaulting the Headmaster's gargoyle. He could remember wondering if the brat was going to make a habit of pestering Dumbledore for the rest of his miserable life. Snape had just finished a rather complex healing potion and had been on his way to deliver the news to Madam Pomfrey, when he had heard the echoing crash of the main doors smashing loudly against the walls of the castle. Irritated by the person's carelessness, he had moved to intercept the offender. The boy had a broomstick clutched in one hand and a large white envelope in the other. Following the boy up two flights of stairs, he had observed his rigid back and the way he seemed to throw himself forward as he climbed. His steps had been angry and his knuckles white where he gripped the broom.

He had realized they were heading toward the Headmaster's office as soon as the idiot boy had turned down the empty corridor leading to the gargoyle. Stomping up to the stone guardian, Snape had expected him to begin rattling off the names of different sweets, but the boy had surprised him. Rapping the gargoyle with his broom, he had looked up and yelled, "Dumbledore! let me in now!" Hitting it a few more times, he had kicked it for good measure. When it did not move aside he growled in exasperation, and flung his broom away from him. It bounced off the far wall and hit the ground with a smack. "I have a letter I want you to read!"

Snape had felt outright rage at the way the fool was yelling at the Headmaster. "Mr. Potter!" he spun around at the sound of his voice, his eyes wild and his body shaking slightly. The look on his face had surprised him, but he had continued, "You may not be attending this school any longer, but that does not mean you can verbally abuse the Headmaster!"

The boy had gone from rage to panic in a matter of seconds. His hand holding the letter shook, and he was forced to place his other against the wall to steady himself. Snape frowned, he had never been able to terrify him quite this well at school, so what had been so different this time? He still did not know, but he was positive it had something to do with why he had been so angry with the Headmaster. He thought back to how tightly the boy had gripped the letter, and wished he could have read it. There was definitely something interesting in that letter.

Staring at the insolent boy he had been about to demand why he was so frightened, but his demeanor had changed completely. His eyes had narrowed and his lip had curled into a perfect imitation of Snape's own sneer, "This is between the Headmaster and myself." He had been about to put the brat in his place when the gargoyle chose that moment to slide aside. Spinning back around, Potter had nearly flown up the curved staircase, the white envelope held securely in his fist.

That had been the last time Snape had seen the boy at Hogwarts. However, it had been three weeks later, at Draco Malfoy's funeral that the Potions Professor had seen the Potter brat last. That had been an odd experience to say the least.

Standing beside the Headmaster, Snape watched the small procession of mourners bid their final farewells to the young blond. It was warm outside and the sun had shown exceedingly bright. It was almost mocking, funerals were supposed to be dark and dreary, not bright and sunny. Blinking in the annoying sunshine, he had turned away from the casket, only to find himself staring directly at Harry Potter. The boy was standing off to the side, away from the rest of the mourners. He was near the tree line, and quite alone. It seemed only one of the three musketeers had decided to come. He was surprised to see the boy there at all, he and Draco had never been friends, in fact they had hated each other through their entire school career. Perhaps Potter had come simply to bid farewell to another victim of Voldemort's tyranny.

Snape watched him, wondering if he would approach the coffin or simply opt to stay in the background. He stood scanning the mourners, his eyes falling on the casket. He ran his gaze over it, and then to Severus' utter shock and horror, he smirked. The little bastard smirked. A boy was dead and he found it amusing. A dark rage clouded his vision, he had known Potter was selfish, self-centered and arrogant, but this was beyond even that. This was a funeral, the least he could have done was stay home like Weasley and Granger. Green eyes met black and his expression faltered, it became the perfect image of solemn revere. Potter glanced to the side nervously, breaking his gaze first. His face was turned to the side, and his lips were moving slightly. Snape frowned, his eyes narrowed, it almost looked as if the boy was speaking to someone. His head turned back toward him suddenly, his arm twitched at his side, as if he fought to hold it still.

What are you playing at, Snape wondered silently. A determined look crossed the brat's face, and he began to make his way toward the grave. By this time the coffin had been lowered into the ground and carefully buried, a large pile of roses covering the grave. Most of the mourners had wandered away, leaving now that the service had ended. Potter walked carefully to the gravestone, his mouth moving. He looked at the headstone, and then frowned at the flowers. Pointing idiotically toward the pile of abandoned roses he turned back to the headstone. The boy seemed crazed, he was having a conversation with the grave marker. He gestured back toward the trees, and then turned to leave. His eyes caught sight of him once again and he froze. Blinking, his expression changed to resemble a terrified first year as he spun back toward the gravestone. He stood staring at it for a moment, and then after flinging his arms out wide, he stalked back toward the trees. Arms crossed over his chest he looked like a petulant child, pouting and throwing comments at no one from the side of his mouth.

Even now, several years later, Snape was unsure of what had been going through the odd boy's mind. He hoped Dumbledore knew what he was doing, bringing Potter back to Hogwarts. Then it hit him. He scowled, realizing the Headmaster probably had another reason for bringing the boy back other than needing an assistant for the Defense Professor. Of course Hart did not need help teaching his class, it was merely an excuse to bring Potter back. He felt like heading back to the gargoyle, marching back up the stairs and demanding to know the real reason Potter was returning. Snape glared at the floor, his eye twitching, _he offered me cake as a distraction. He knew I would be waiting for some terrible news and when it was something so silly I was too relieved to think properly_. Snape stalked his way through the halls, a dark expression clouding his features. The Headmaster really was the most devious man alive.

Finding his way to his office, he threw himself into his chair and scowled at the empty desk before him. If classes had started he would at least have had work to take his mind off his conversation with the Headmaster. He folded his hands, deciding to tackle the problem at hand. Dumbledore was bringing Potter back to Hogwarts, and he was going to discover why. The blasted boy had probably gotten himself into some sort of trouble and needed the Headmaster to fix it. Snorting, Snape decided that this was the most likely reason, and this caused him to scowl once again. What problems was he going to bring back to the school this time? The Potions Professor frowned, attempting to come up with an answer, but was at a loss. To figure out what trouble he had gotten into, he would first have to have an idea of what Potter had been doing. He thought back, but could not remember having heard any news of the boy until now. Eyes narrowed, he tried to think of even one person mentioning what Potter had decided to do after graduation. Potter had been gone for three years, and not once had Dumbledore mentioned him. Snape found this rather odd. Surely the famous Harry Potter would have wanted to stay in the public eye? But there had not been any real news of him, no mention of what career he had followed or even any connection between him and the fight with Voldemort. Which lead to the question, just what had Harry Potter been doing for the last three years?

Snape frowned, had he been in hiding? He definitely had not been playing Quidditch, even Severus would have heard about Potter becoming the next Seeker for whatever pathetic team begged him to play for them. As far as Snape knew, he had not been fighting the Dark Lord, so what did that leave? An Auror? Some idiot position in the Ministry like his friends Weasley and Granger? He might have guessed dead if not for the fact that Dumbledore said he would be joining them for the school year. Another odd thought struck him at that moment, when was the last time the Dark Lord had mentioned Potter? He thought furiously and could not remember. Harry Potter, Voldemort's one true obsession, seemed to have stopped interesting the Dark Lord.

Snape would have snarled in exasperation if he had thought it would help, but he settled on cursing the Headmaster instead. The old man had to know what the boy had been doing all this time, and he was positive his activities had everything to do with why he was returning to Hogwarts. _Perhaps if I ask_, he thought, and then dismissed the idea. The old wizard would just find a way of answering him without really telling him anything. He sneered,_maybe I should invite him to tea_. _No_, he decided,_he'd probably just enjoy himself_. He sighed, _I'll just have to wait and find out from Potter then_.

**_Part 3: Ambition is a poor excuse for not having enough sense to be lazy._**

Ron Weasley sat back and rubbed his eyes for the third time that day. The paper work was getting to be annoying. He frowned at a particularly long report on the activities going on, in and around Knockturn Alley. As if they didn't already know the place was a dark wizard club house. He snorted, pushing it aside in favor of a shorter report marked 'confidential'. Tapping the seal with his wand he watched it unfurl to reveal scratchy handwriting. He grimaced, _learn to write Black_, he thought irritably. Trying to read the terrible writing he sighed, a sharp pain starting behind his eyes. He tossed the report on the ever growing pile of parchment that was his desk. _I'll read it later_, he decided. Stretching he glanced to the door as a pretty brunette entered his office. "Hermione," he smiled, "is it noon already?"

She returned his grin, "I seriously doubt you have been working so hard that you've lost track of time," she teased.

He made a face at the pile of papers he had been trying to ignore, "No matter how many I go through the stack just keeps getting higher," he scowled, "I think someone's cursed my desk."

She laughed, "Come on, maybe lunch will take your mind off it."

Letting her drag him out the door, he slipped an arm around her waist and hugged her to him. She smiled up at him, "What was that for?"

He shrugged, "Just cause." She gave him a quick kiss, and he hugged her again, his headache beginning to fade. "Where do you want to eat?"

It was her turn to shrug, "Doesn't matter, as long as we have a table."

He glanced down to her arms and groaned, she was carrying a bag that bulged sickly. "Do you have to work every second of the day?"

Hermione gave him a glare, "I take my work seriously Ronald Weasley!" Her chin lifted and he knew he was in trouble, "but I'll have you know this," she tapped the bag, "is not work." She clutched the bag closer, "This is our wedding."

He blinked, oh no, "We're supposed to work on the invitations!"

"That's right," she sighed softly, "but if you don't want to-"

"Of course I want to!" The smile returned to her face, "That paper work wiped my brain clean is all." He placed a kiss on the top of her head, "I'm sorry I forgot, do you forgive me?"

She punched him playfully, nearly dropping her bag, "As long as you help me with all of the planning and all of the work, then yes, I more than forgive you."

The restaurant they chose was one of their favorites, it was small, comfortable, had extra large tables and wonderful food. Sitting at a table near the back, Hermione drank her tea while waiting for Ron to finish looking through the invitations. "You didn't do Harry's yet," he pointed out.

"I thought you'd want to."

He grinned, "Okay, you're always right." He picked up one of the white envelopes, "Ginny knows when it's at."

Hermione sighed, "We still have to send her one Ron, she'd be upset if we didn't."

He looked shocked, "But she's in it, she should know we want her there." He dropped it in a pile and then looked disgusted as he picked another invitation up. He held it between his thumb and forefinger as if it was contaminated, "and why are we sending one to Snape?"

She was unable to stop a snort of laughter, "Ron he hasn't even touched it yet."

"Yeah," he agreed, giving it another look, "But he's going to and I don't want him touching where I touched."

She shook her head, "You know very well why we have to invite him," she sighed, "Besides, we can't invite the rest of the teachers and not him. It would be cruel."

He grinned suddenly, "He probably won't come anyway."

Hermione sighed, "That's the spirit I guess." She speared a carrot off her plate and watched her fiancé while she ate.

He bit the end of his quill, "What should I say Mione?" He studied the tiny invitation, "There's hardly any room to write on this thing."

"You're just to write the date and everything, you can add a letter to it if you like." She fished out an invitation with everything filled in, "Here, use this to copy from."

He studied it for a moment and then began filling out Harry's invitation. "Should I add and guest?" he asked suddenly.

She raised her eyebrows, "And why wouldn't you?"

He bit his lip, "Well I was hoping he'd want to go with Ginny." He gave her a sheepish look, one of his classics, "I just thought that if neither of them brought anyone-"

Hermione sighed, "Ron you can't force people together."

He snorted, "It wouldn't be forcing them together. Ginny really likes Harry." He gave her a challenging look, "And Harry likes Ginny, even if he hasn't said so yet."

She patted him on the hand, "If Harry wants to ask her he will, but we can't not allow him to bring someone else if he wants to."

"Fine," he relented, "I'll add _and guest_." Filling in the line he showed it to her, "There, you happy now?" She smiled, and finished off the rest of her carrots.

Ron smiled, an idea forming. He knew exactly what he wanted to write to Harry in his letter. Finishing the invitation he picked up a clean piece of parchment and began writing. The first part of the letter was safe enough to write in front of Hermione, that way she would not get suspicious. He could just see her brain work if he tried to write in private. He would just wait and finish the important part in his office.

**_Part 4: I humbly strive to understand and respect the opinions of others, regardless of their inferior intellect._**

Draco Malfoy tapped his foot angrily against the oak floor. Grabbing a handful of chocolate mints he began popping the annoying things into his mouth one after the other. Once his mouth was filled with the combination of nauseating sweetness and irritating mint he scowled. Looking for his tea he threw some papers and random scrolls onto the floor. His hand finding a book he glanced at the cover and then tossed it into the fire. _That should teach the stupid git to leave stuff lying about_, he decided. Watching the book burn he felt mild pleasure, but it was quickly replaced by an aggravated feeling of impotence. He wanted to do something but Higgs would not let him. _Why am I the only idiot who doesn't seem to think everything is going to be just fine_, he kicked the stool beside him and watched it sail across the room to smash into the wall. There was a sick pleasure to be gained in hearing it crack and seeing it fall to the floor in a broken mess, but it did nothing to lessen his anger.

He turned his attention back to finding his tea and ignored the sound of footsteps racing down the stairs. "What the hell?" He ignored the newly arrived and highly irate wizard beside him. "Did you do this?" He did not even bother to turn toward him. "Are you out of your bloody mind?" He spotted his tea cup. "Is that my book?" There was sputtering from behind him, he took the opportunity to turn around. Reaching around the gaping man he picked up the kettle and refilled his cup. "You bloody bastard! That's my book!"

Draco glanced into the fire, "_Was_ your book," he corrected.

"I'll kill you," his hands were clenched into fists, "I swear I'm going to kill you."

Draining his cup he sighed, the annoying taste finally gone. "Oh for Merlin's sake I'll get you a new one," he drawled lazily, the other's rage drawing some of his anger out.

"No you won't, cause you'll be dead!" the tall wizard howled.

There was a soft sigh from the doorway, "Jus wa' t'ave yea done now?" The pretty Irish girl swept into the room far too happily for his sake. "An wha t'are ye crying fer Leon?"

Leon pointed into the fire, "He's burned my book, the bastard threw it in the fire."

She pursed her lips, "Why wou' yea do somethin like tha' Nathair?" She gave the blond man a frown, and then patted the taller man on the back, "There there, ih' t'wall be all righ'."

Draco scowled at both of them, "It was just a stupid book!"

"But ih t'was his stupid book," she replied.

The taller man slumped slightly, his brown eyes reflecting hurt, "Oh thank you Fiona that makes me feel so much better."

She opened her mouth to reply, but Draco threw his hands up, "You can go and burn something of mine if it will make you feel better!"

Leon turned away, "No," he said in defeat, "I'd only feel bad about it later." He looked longingly at the book, "And I had almost finished it too." Fiona placed a hand on his arm and they walked back toward the staircase together. She patting him comfortingly and he sighing dramatically.

"Annoying git," he shook his head. _He's playing it up now, hoping she'll keep comforting him_. His rage having bled out during the encounter, the young man sighed and fell back into his chair. He hated them, they only cared about themselves. Well, he knew that was not really true, but he could still think it. He could still feel that way. He ran a hand through short white-blond hair, they were all common anyway and undeserving of his attention. He leaned back in the chair, why Higgs had ever picked them he would never understand. Draco glared at Leon's back as he retreated up the stair. The stupid git was far too emotional, messing everything up and always getting them into trouble. He scowled, and if that was not bad enough, he came from a muggle family to boot, stupid mudblood; always going on about bloody this and bleeding that, foul mouthed and disgustingly common. But at least he was a half decent wizard, even if his methods were unconventional, _the squib wanna-be_ could hardly even cast a spell. She was a liability Higgs would have to pay for one day, and Draco did not want to be the currency. He scowled, and she was far too happy, no one should be _that_ happy. _The Yank_ and _Bird Boy_ weren't any better either, and he couldn't care the least about _the hippy_. He felt like pouting, but he had not done that since his mother had died, well not much anyway. Commoners the whole lot.

The only people worth his acknowledgment were Higgs and Harry. He scowled, and now Harry was being sent to Hogwarts. He felt his lip twitch, and with no one to watch him there was no telling how he was going to get himself killed. _Stupid Gryffindor, always trying to save the world while dying in the process_. Draco had demanded they send someone with him, but Higgs claimed Harry would be fine at Hogwarts, it was one of the safest places in the Wizarding World right now. He snorted, _yeah, if it's so secure then how come Voldemort always seemed to be able to get at Harry during the school year_? He frowned, and then stuffed more of the god awful chocolate mints into his mouth. Chewing, a disgusted look on his face, he allowed himself a pout.

He had not always thought so highly of Harry, no on the contrary he had once hated him. No, he and Harry had not gotten along at all. Draco stuffed another handful of the revolting candies into his mouth. Harry had always been a better person, Draco crossed his arms over his chest, okay he_still_ was a better person, but he didn't have to admit it to anyone. He knew had he been in the other boy's shoes three years back, he wouldn't have done quite the same thing. _No_, he decided,_I'd have been a complete arse and let him die_. _But not now_, he added quickly,_never now_. Stretching his legs out he stared into the fire, his scars still hurt where the Death Eaters had cut him. They had not wanted to kill him too quickly, and that was the only reason he was still alive. Well, that and Harry. At first he had simply wanted to repay his debt, he hated being indebted to anyone. But Harry's kindness had started to get to him, and somewhere along the way they had become friends. Nearly brothers really, well, he thought of Harry as his brother, he wasn't sure what Harry thought of him.

Draco reached for more candy but found it empty, he hated chocolate mints anyway. He tapped his foot against the floor, there had to be something he could do. If only he could have gone with him, made sure he wasn't going there to die. He scowled, Higgs was keeping everything secret and he did not like it. Dumbledore should be made aware of what was going on with Harry, that way at least someone would keep an eye on him. He thought about sending the old wizard an owl, but then changed his mind, what if someone intercepted it? He sighed, and then there was Snape. Harry seemed to trust him, wanted to trust him, but he did not. Draco snorted, no one who had been a Death Eater could be trusted, not even one who claimed to be on their side now. Anyone could turn on you, try to kill you, even your father. Someone should be there, Harry should not be alone, he had too much to worry about all ready. Voldemort should have been enough for anyone to deal with, why make him face this alone? Draco sneered, he hated Higgs too, he was a prick.

_If only I wasn't supposed to be_-" he froze, his thoughts turning excited. _Wait, I could be there, not physically, but I could be there_. He grinned, leaping from his chair and racing up the stairs. Ignoring the curious looks he got from the stupit git and near-squib, he pushed past them to his room. It's around here somewhere, he began throwing various items about his room. His hand closing around a silver chain he pulled it out to view the pendant dangling from it. The clear orb spun lazily back and forth. _Now, I just need something of Harry's_, he frowned, _what would work best_? He stopped to go over his choices, _the more personal the better_. He tapped his chin, _something he handles a lot or is close to him a lot_. _Wait_, he thought suddenly,_why do I have to use an item, why not some of his hair_? He turned to head toward Harry's room, but then stopped, a new thought occurring to him. _Why hair when I can get blood_? Blood would be even better, it would be the closest thing to Harry that there was. _Blood then_, he decided, turning to race back down the stairs. Higgs would have more than enough, he had wanted to run some tests on Harry and he always took way too much, the bastard.

Draco took the stairs two steps at a time, he was finally able to do something, and he was going to do it before anyone could stop him. He slid across the papers he had scattered on the floor, but managed to keep his balance. Storming through the gathering room he headed toward the back of the house. Throwing the door open he strode quickly down the short path until he reached the smaller house. Not bothering to knock, he opened the door with his wand and continued through the house until coming to the room Higgs used as his lab. Not caring whether or not the man caught him, Draco cast gray eyes about the room, stopping when they landed on a cabinet to his left. The cabinet had a cold spell cast on it, so he was certain it was the correct one. Opening the doors, he pawed through the various vials, turning them so that he could read their labels. H.Potter caught his eye and he swiped it from the tray. _I only need a drop_ he thought, _he'll never even know I was in here_.

Stepping back from the cabinet he held the pendent in the palm of his hand. Whispering the activation spell, he uncorked the vial and dripped some blood onto it. Watching the clear crystal absorb the blood, he whispered the sealing spell and then binded it to himself. Slipping the silver chain over his head he tucked it under his shirt. Feeling very much like the cat who caught the canary, he replaced the blood and closed the cabinet. Leaving the small house, he re-locked the door and then went back to the main house. Sitting back in his chair he pulled the pendant back out, a soft blue glow lighting the inside. Satisfied, he slipped it back under his shirt, and felt a soft warmth against his chest. At least now he would know if anything was wrong with his only friend, and perhaps be able to do something to help.

After losing his entire life, Harry had been his one constant for three years, he was not going to turn his back on him now. Besides, everyone else hated him, if Harry died, who would he have to talk to? Patting the pendant he smiled, _I think I'll keep this to myself for a while_, he decided.

**_Part 5: If dogs could write..._**

The words blurred together, "whinfins?" he glared at the letter, "what the hell is he trying to write here?" As always he high-lighted the harder to read sections of Black's letter. He frowned, something about missing in the rain, oh he grinned in triumph, He had kept missing their tracks in the rain. Ron stared at the writing, what tracks? He looked back over it more confused than before. _This is terrible_, he thought, _just because the man can turn himself into a dog does not mean he should write as one_. He dropped the letter, refusing to look at it again until it became more legible. Forget code, they should just let Black write all their letters,_no one_ would understand them.

A hand reached out to snatch up the letter, "Having problems with Sirius again?" Hermione asked standing just behind his shoulder.

He sighed, "Yes, the man cannot write worth rubbish."

"Well maybe I can help," she held the letter up and began to read, "Been tracking the thieves for a week now, I should have them within a few nights time. It was difficult at first because of the downpour. I kept missing their tracks in the rain. Once I changed to my dog form it was relatively easy. I'll make sure they still have the items, if not I'll try and find out where they dropped them. Tell Moody he was right, they are definitely dark wizards and warrant our special attention. The only thing that bothers me is why didn't they simply apparate? Perhaps we'll know when I have them. Black."

He blinked, "How do you do that?" She smiled, putting the letter back on his desk. He leaned back to look up at her, a mischievous grin on his lips, "So, Miss I take my work very seriously, how come you seem to find yourself at my desk so often?"

She blushed, "I came to tell you something."

He turned so that he could look at her without straining his neck, "What is it?"

A smile lit her face, "It's about Harry, I just found out your father has sent him to Hogwarts." She sat down on his desk, crumpling several scrolls, "He'll be there for the whole term so we should be able to see him."

Ron looked stunned and then returned her smile, "Oh Mione, that's wonderful!" He looked like a little boy at Christmas, "We'll have to go as soon as he's settled." Imagine, Harry back at Hogwarts, not being sent all over god knows where. He would be staying in one place and he and Hermione could visit him on the weekends. Then something occurred to him. His smile faltered. This was Harry they were talking about, there had to be a reason he was being sent to Hogwarts. Hogwarts, one of the only safe places to go when You-Know-Who was trying to kill you. "Did anyone say why he's being sent?"

She blinked, "No, just that he would be helping to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Oh that's just grand," Ron wailed suddenly, "the most cursed teaching position that ever existed." He banged his head against his desk, "If they aren't You-Know-Who or a Death Eater in disguise then something really horrid always happens to them by the end of the year." He moaned, "Professor Grant didn't even last the whole year, he had a nervous break down before exams."

"Oh Ron, it won't be like that for Harry," she hoped silently, "I mean he isn't even the Professor, he's just going to be assisting." She placed a hand on his shoulder, "Besides, Dumbledore wouldn't let anything happen to him."

"Yes that makes everything better," he sighed sarcastically, "cause we know nothing bad ever happens while Dumbledore is around."

Hermione watched him for a moment, "It will be all right, we'll visit him and see how he's doing."

He leaned back in his chair, "Yes I suppose you're right, no sense in panicking before anything happens." He tried to smile, but failed miserably, "I just hope he'll be all right. I mean, you know Harry, he's never had a _normal_ year at Hogwarts."

TBC

_What was in that letter Harry wanted Dumbledore to read?  
Will Snape ever get to read it? and would he really want to?  
Where was Harry during those three days he went missing?  
What did Ron add to Harry's letter he didn't want Hermione to read?  
Was Harry really smirking at Draco's funeral[that's just disrespectful!_

_Read "It's All In Your Head," the next exciting chapter of __Blood & Dust_, where these and many new questions will not be answered.


	3. Chapter 3 It’s All in your Head

Disclaimer: The world & Characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and not to me.

Rating: PG-13 for some violence  
Description: Action-Adventure/Drama/Mystery 

_**Blood & Dust**  
Chapter 3 It's All in your Head_

**_Part 1: Breakfast, the most Important Meal of the Day...or is it supper?_**

_There were dark shapes moving just outside of his vision. He moved his head toward them, and they disappeared, but the moment he looked away, they were back. Slow moving shapes spotted out of the corner of your eye. There was no sky, or if there was it was dark and held no stars, no moon, no light. The air was light and cool and it made him feel as if he were floating. He walked forward, ignoring the shadowy forms, he had seen them often enough. His footsteps made no noise as he moved. He walked among the shadows. His presence accepted by the wraiths dancing just beyond his vision. He belonged there, he was one of them. There was a soft light which glowed a pale blue in the distance. He turned from it, it felt warm and he was looking for something cold. Another presence, one which was cold and dark and stank of blood and dust. He could feel it, just below the surface of his dream realm._

_Feeling the familiar tug, he let himself be pulled toward the other presence. A wave of cold dread washed over him, assaulting his senses. He knew this feeling, he felt it every time he dared seek out this dark presence. The overwhelming stench of blood filled his nostrils. It was nauseating and stank of death and decay. The air was frigid and burned when he breathed. As if his lungs were filled with thousands of tiny chips of ice cutting with every breath. Blinking the shadows from his eyes, he watched as the darkness melted away. Flowing down like water, his vision slowly cleared._

_He stood in a dimly lit room. Shadows played on the walls like wraiths, the flickering lights distorting everything. Dried blood stained the floor, stuck between the grooves separating the flag stones, creating a disturbing red black border. Lifting his gaze from the floor he turned his attention to the far wall. Sitting against the cold stones were several small shapes. They sat limply, their heads bowed toward the ground, tiny hands lying uselessly at their sides, their legs stretched out before them. The small forms looked like marionettes who's strings had been cut. There appeared to be seven of them. Stepping forward, he was startled by a shifting to his left. Pausing he turned slowly. Standing apart from the others was a small boy. He blinked large blue eyes and took an uncertain step toward him, "Can you help me?" his voice was soft and hopeful._

_He smiled at the child, but felt a deep sadness. He was not a dream walker, nor was he a vision, which only left one possibility. "Yes."_

_The boy seemed to relax at this, he glanced toward the other children, "I'm scared." A tear fell from his right eye, followed closely by one from his left, "no one will move." He clutched his arms about himself and whispered, "and the scary man may come back."_

_"What happened?" his voice was soft and comforting._

_More tears, "I woke up here." He slid to the floor, huddling in on himself. "I was with mum and then..." he sniffed, "I want my mummy."_

_He closed the distance between himself and the child with three flowing steps. Kneeling he drew the boy into his arms, "There there," he whispered, "let me see what happened, you don't need to be afraid anymore."_

_He was standing in a subway station, people bustled by quickly not paying each other any attention. The boy was following his mother, his tiny hand clutched safely in hers. They paused, his mother looking at the large subway map. Her finger trailed a line and then she glanced down at her son, "We'll be home soon sweetheart, mummy just has to get one more thing for daddy's party." They turned as a train came barreling down the tracks and passed through the tunnel. The wind whipped their hair and clothing as the speeding cars passed by. A dark shape moved from the shadows, a night black cloak held open with one hand. He was behind the boy, and in one swift flick had the cloak wrapped around him. Drawing the child backward and out of his mother's grasp he melted back into the shadows. It was over in seconds._

_The subway slowly faded, a dark room filled with shadows replaced it. Sitting at the center of the room was Voldemort. He looked slightly distorted, the shadows seemed to cling to him masking him in a shroud of darkness. Directly before him knelt a masked wizard. He had his head bowed, his hands resting on his knees. He was whispering, but the words hissed past his ears, reminding him of the sound dead leaves made in the wind. Rising to his feet, the mysterious wizard stepped back. The hem of his robe was soaked in blood, and it brushed strokes of dark red on the stone floor as he moved. The mask he wore was not the mask of a Death Eater, it was cut differently and had strange red marks which seemed to move through the black like water. The strange wizard drew back his cloak and the boy fell to the ground._

_The room shifted, and he was staring at a group of small forms. The eight children sat listlessly behind the Dark Lord's seat. He walked to them, touching first one and then another. His hand moving from head to head, until he found himself before the small boy. Standing behind him he watched Voldemort and the bloodied wizard. A shuffling form entered the room and he recognized it immediately. Peter Pettigrew dropped to his knees before his master, his head touching the floor. Voldemort blocked his view, but he could see the other standing to the side. When Wormtail regained his feet, he looked to the other wizard. Raising a hand he pointed toward the children, his mouth moving. Pettigrew walked aimlessly toward the small figures, stopping before the boy he stood behind. The other moved soundlessly forward, red splattering the floor with each step. Leaning down he grabbed the boy and motioned for Wormtail to follow him._

_They moved to the far corner, where the wizard set the boy down on a stone bench. Handing Wormtail a large wooden bowl, he proceeded to reveal the child's throat by pulling his head back by his hair. Pettigrew's hands began to shake, and he nearly lost the bowl. The dark wizard removed a thin bladed dirk from his robes, and placed it against the boy's throat. He looked to the shaking Pettigrew, lips moved soundlessly and then he drew the blade across. The boy remained perfectly still, his blood draining away to fill the bowl. The wizard's hands were drenched with dark red black blood, he took the bowl from Wormtail and sent the man back to Voldemort. Dropping back before his lord, the rat waited listening to his orders. Moving back to his feet he began to stand the children up, slowly ushering them out of the room._

_When all of the children and Pettigrew were gone, the wizard carried the bowl to the center of the room. The small boy's body left abandoned in the corner. Placing the bowl on the ground he sat crossed legged before it. Drawing back his left sleeve he pressed the dirk against his skin, dark black blood oozed from the cut and ran down the blade to drip steadily onto the ground. Placing a finger within his own blood, the wizard began to draw an intricate design on the stone floor, branching out from the bowl. Moving backward as he worked he circled the bowl, the pattern surrounding it. Removing a small vial from his robes he let one black drop fall onto the pattern. Lifting the dirk he wiped it on his cloak and then turned to the Dark Lord. Holding out his arm, Voldemort watched as the other wizard pressed the blade to his abnormally pale flesh. Dark blood swelled around the blade and dripped from his arm to the other's waiting hand. He bent foreword, dripping the blood first amongst the pattern and then into the bowl itself. Drawing an ebony wand from his robes, the dark wizard stood over the circular pattern wand in one hand, dirk in the other._

_Pointing toward the single drop of black he drew his wand above it, his whispering voice echoed throughout the chamber as he hissed what sounded like an incantation. Moving his wand slowly over the intricate pattern, thin tendrils of black shot from the single drop to branch out over the pattern. Covering the entire maze of blood, the black liquid threaded through the pattern, a dark line resting within the heart of every swirl of red. Gripping the dirk, Voldemort's blood still staining its surface, he crouched over the pattern. Holding the tip of the blade over the red black lines, his hoarse voice chanting thick guttural syllables, he drew it over the blood. Thin threads of red black blood split away from the rest of the pattern to pool below the dirk. His hand moved quickly, holding the blade a breath above the blood he began to write, the red black blood moving beneath him, matching the movements of the blade. Quick scratchy strokes, as if from a quill, meshed themselves with the maze of blood. Stepping back he repeated the same step within the bowl. Until one name was etched in flowing script upon both the pattern and the blood within the bowl, Harry Potter. The name glowed a pale and sickly gray and then disappeared within the blood._

_The wizard lifted the bowl from the center of the blood circle. Careful not to smear any of the pattern, he carried the bowl to the Dark Lord. A soft whisper, and then he held it to Voldemort's lips, the blood glowing eerily. The Dark Lord drank deeply, blood dripping onto his robes and splashing the floor near his boots. When he had finished, the other wizard took the bowl and cleared away the pattern with a wave of his wand. Wiping the blade on his cloak once more, he returned it to its sheath. Bowing, he backed away._

_The room swam and he was once again holding the small boy in the dark room. "It's time to move on," he whispered softly, "this is the realm between, you must search for your light."_

_The boy hugged him, holding on with tight fingers, "I'm scared."_

_A silvery green shimmer caught his eye, "Don't be afraid, Baku has come to lead you home." The boy turned his face from his chest to peer at the strange dog-like creature beside them. He reached out a tentative hand, and smiled when his fingers met soft fur. Lifting the boy, he set him down on the large dog's back, and whispered in the creature's ear, "Keep him safe." Stepping back, he found himself enveloped within a thick cool fog and then_...

His eyes opened. Sitting up, he reached to the table beside him, his hand seeking soft leather. Brushing against his quarry he grabbed the book and flipped it open. Finding the silver colored quill nestled safely between the books pages, he began writing. Copying everything into the book that he could remember from the dream, Harry wrote furiously. Adding a sketch of the blood pattern he sighed, it did not look quite right, but it was the best he could manage. Re-reading what he had written he added a couple more things in the margin and then nodded absently to himself, satisfied with what he had remembered. Returning the quill, he closed the book and set it back down on the table beside his bed.

Harry stared at the wall, not really seeing it, the more disturbing aspects of the dream replaying themselves in his mind. He blinked away the tears that threatened to fall, he could still see the little boy's face staring up at him frightened. _So_, he thought angrily,_Voldemort has claimed another innocent's life_. Hands clenched into fists he swore under his breath, _the bastard_, he closed his eyes. _I should be looking for those children_ he thought frustrated,_there are seven still alive_. _Seven children waiting to be_.. he turned his face as if turning away from the thought. Harry wanted to break something, he felt completely helpless, _there has to be something I can do_? He bowed his head, resting it in his hands, his elbows against his knees. Fingers slipping through his hair, he raised his face with a sigh, _I'll have to owl Higgs, that's all I can do_.

Standing he walked slowly to his bathroom, a dull throbbing beginning behind his eyes. After taking a shower he dressed. Rubbing his temples he sighed,_just what I need, another headache_. Walking back toward his bed he paused before the mirror, "I'll never get used to that," he murmured softly, running a hand through his hair. Glancing around the room he frowned, his brain finally registering what he had seemed to know unconsciously. _Hogwarts_, he thought suddenly, _I'm at Hogwarts,_. Looking to the Grandfather Clock resting serenely against the far wall he raised an eyebrow,_5:02_? _That's a record_, he thought absently, _nearly three whole hours of sleep_. He shook his head sitting down on the bed. The room was just beginning to brighten with the early morning light, and he knew he would never be able to get back to sleep. _Look at me_, he thought disgusted, _it's still summer, I'm not at Haven anymore and I still can't manage to get a decent night's sleep_. He gave the clock one last frown and then stood back up. Reaching for his book he decided to head down to the Great Hall and try and do some thinking. Pausing, he grabbed a stack of loose parchment and stuffed it between the cover and first page of his book. Leaving the room he decided he would find himself a cup of tea as well.

Walking silently down the hall he found the stair and made his way down. Dumbledore had given him a choice in rooms, either the Sixth floor where most of the other Professors stayed or the room on the second floor just to the right of his gargoyle.

_"Excuse me sir, but did you say to the right of your gargoyle?" Harry asked, wondering if he had heard the Headmaster correctly._

_Dumbledore smiled, "Just to the right Harry," he corrected. "It really is a very nice room, a private bath and its own fireplace." His eyes twinkled, "And you would be closer to the Great Hall and staff room."_

_He thought for a moment, he would have a private place, no one else around. Not even at Haven had he been able to have a room separate from the others. All of their rooms had been on the same floor, in relatively close quarters. The other Professors would all be either on the sixth floor or like Snape in their own private area. "All right Headmaster, I think I would like the room just to the right of your gargoyle."_

It really was more convenient for him. He could come and go as he pleased without worrying about waking anyone, and with his sleeping habits he was sure the Professors would thank him to stay away. Although he was also sure Dumbledore had wanted him to take the room, seeing as it was so close to the old wizard's own. _I suppose this way he can keep an eye on me_. Harry sighed, someone was always keeping an eye on him. This made him think of Draco. He scowled. Entering the Great Hall he paused to gaze up at the morning sky, and then made his way to the High Table. Sitting down he opened his book, taking out a blank piece of parchment he began his letter.

**Higgs -Just had a "dream" need to say V is plotting something. He has kidnapped eight children, one has already been killed**. Harry paused, unsure of how much he should write in the letter. Thinking of Draco now brought a smirk. **I will send word through a reliable source soon. -Harry** _Let Draco explain it then_, Harry decided. Addressing the letter he decided to send it right away.

Making the journey to the Owlery, the young wizard felt a wave of nostalgia. He had not realized just how much he had missed Hogwarts until now. It had been three years since he had walked these halls, and his mind wandered back to the last time he had set foot in the school. He had come storming back to Hogwarts directly after graduation, his mind a blank rage. _I was an idiot to think Dumbledore had known_, he thought, still slightly embarrassed at how he had yelled at the Headmaster. He shook his head, _and meeting Snape in the hall, at that moment no less_. He sighed, remembering exactly why he had not returned to Hogwarts until now. _I won't let Dumbeldore pressure me_, he decided, _I may have promised, but I never promised when_.

He found himself nearing the top of the tower, and smiled. Hedwig would take great pleasure in being able to deliver a letter so soon, it always made her feel useful. _Just like me_, he thought,_we both need to be doing something to feel needed_. Walking past the many school owls, Harry made his way to the large snowy owl near the end. She nibbled his fingers in greeting, and he stroked her soft feathers. "I've a letter for you to deliver," he told her, tying it to the leg she held out expectantly. He scratched her neck, and smiled wickedly, "Be sure Nathair gives you a treat, don't leave him alone until he does." She cooed softy and then launched herself out the window. Harry snickered to himself,_that should keep him busy for a while_.

Heading back to the Great Hall, he made a slight detour to the kitchens, and asked Dobby very politely if he might bring him a cup of tea. After disentangling himself from the extremely happy house elf, Harry returned to the High Table, where a large pot of tea was waiting. Laughing, he picked up the cup sitting beside it and poured the tea. Along with the tea he found a tray filled with several tea cups, a bowl of sugar cubes, a pitcher of milk and even several slices of lemon. _I'd forgotten how wonderful Hogwarts is_, he grinned to himself, thinking of how Higgs and the others would be burning breakfast soon. _Oh I do hope it's Draco's turn to cook today_, he thought evilly. The man had nearly burned the house down the last time he had tried. After a long begging session, Harry had agreed to cook on his days as well. Of course, the rest of the house did not know this, Harry had promised not to tell.

Draco had not wanted anyone to know, something about his pride and all that. Harry snorted, more likely he knew they would have delighted in finding something they could make fun of him about. He was after all, a pompous git to nearly everyone. Harry had promised not to say anything, well because he really was the prat's friend, but also because he did not want to end up the house cook. If everyone found out he was doing Draco's cooking for him, they would want him to do the same for them, and he was not about to let that happen. They might claim it was unfair for him to do Draco's work for him, but in the end, it had been in everyone's best interests. Draco was just too dangerous in the kitchen.

Adding two sugar cubes he stirred the tea slowly. Sitting back he chuckled at the thought of his friend trying to cook breakfast and decided he wasn't angry about his strange intrusion any longer. But he was still annoyed. Drinking, he frowned slightly, his thoughts returning to the train ride several hours earlier.

_He stood on the platform waiting for the Hogwarts express. It was dark out, but Dumbledore had not had a problem with sending it for him even this late. He knew he would not arrive on the school grounds until after midnight, but he also knew the Headmaster would be waiting for him. He was tired, and just wanted to rest. Higgs stood on his right while Douglas stood to his left and Harry knew Hideaki was hanging around somewhere behind them. He felt silly, the older wizards flanking him like body guards or over-protective parents. Draco had wanted to accompany them, but Higgs had forbid it. He was not allowed away from Haven unless absolutely necessary, and waving Harry off did not count as priority one importance. Besides, Higgs didn't trust him enough to not try and sneak on board the train. He was probably already pouting, the young wizard thought, I just hope he doesn't have a tantrum._

_Harry glanced from one wizard to the other, Higgs looked as stern as ever, but Douglas just looked worried. He sighed softly, not even when he had been a student waiting for the train had he been guarded. Of course when he had attended Hogwarts there had always been a huge crowd of students boarding the train while their parents stood about waving them off. Right now the three wizards and he were the only people standing on the platform. Harry shivered slightly at the thought of actually having to stand alone and wait for the train, and was suddenly glad for the company. No matter how protective they had decided to act. A large hand on his shoulder told him Douglas had felt the shiver and was attempting to steady him. Harry sighed, over-protective was too weak a word to describe them._

_It was none too soon when the train arrived. While Douglas loaded his things on board, Hideaki took the American's place beside Harry. Finding a compartment near the front of the train, Harry waited while Higgs repeated everything he had told him before they had left Haven. "Owl me if you have another dream," Higgs refused to call them visions, "or if anything changes." He handed him a wooden box about twelve inches in length and barely an inch and a half in both width and depth. "I'll know if you use it," he informed the young wizard, "so you'd better have a good excuse." He put a hand on his shoulder then, "You know the rules Mr. Potter," he said not unkindly, "you bent them the other night, but that's not why I'm sending you to Dumbledore." He sighed softly, "I want you to rest, and that means doing exactly as you've been instructed." He patted his shoulder lightly, "I'll be sending Hideaki in a few days, but nothing specific." He turned to leave, "And get some sleep you look as if you need it."_

_Harry nodded, reminded of Draco's goodbye from nearly an hour ago, "Well, I'll try and not kill the more asinine aspects of our group while you're away, but I'm not promising anything." He frowned slightly, "Goodbye Harry, remember what I told you about Snape and owl me tomorrow so I know you aren't dead yet." He stood watching as Harry followed Higgs and Douglas outside, and as if remembering something leaned out after them, "oh, and try to not get yourself killed," he yelled as they left._

_Douglas patted him on the shoulder next, "Take care Harry, everything will be fine, you'll see." He patted him once more and then left the compartment. Hideaki nodded toward him, and then followed the other man out._

_Alone at last, he leaned back and prepared to try and get some sleep. The train began to move and he frowned at the strange feeling he got from riding in the compartment alone. It was too quiet and terribly lonely. He sighed, and tried to push the melancholy feeling away. Resting his head against the back of the seat he closed his eyes, and "Harry," was immediately startled awake. Blinking he looked slowly around the compartment, he was alone. I could have sworn I heard someone say my name, he thought, feeling apprehensive. A shiver ran up his spine, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He took a deep breath, and cleared his throat, "uh, hello?"_

_There was a long silence, and just when he was about to laugh at his own foolishness, "you heard me?" he jerked so hard he nearly fell out of the seat._

_"What!" and then he realized he had recognized the voice as Draco's, "Nathair?" he asked confused, and then, "What the hell is going on?"_

_"You aren't supposed to be able to hear me," the annoying git announced._

_Harry's eyes narrowed, "I repeat, what the hell is going on?"_

_"I cast a spell," he began, and then interrupted himself, "do I sound as if I'm speaking aloud or in your head?"_

_He blinked, and then, "I hadn't noticed, but I think more like your standing just behind me." Harry closed his eyes, "Now about that spell?"_

_"Yes, I cast a spell that should have just let me know how you were," he paused, "you know to be sure you hadn't died or anything." Harry snorted, so he continued, "I was supposed to use an object with strong ties to you, but I thought it would work better if I used some of your blood instead."_

_"How did- no wait, I really don't want to know."_

_"I guess I made the link too strong. I thought everything had gone correctly until I started hearing snatches of your thoughts." Harry was silent, he willed his mind to clear. Draco seemed nervous, "Are you angry?"_

_"Would it really matter?"_

_"But I can help you this way," he tried to reason, "if anything goes wrong you can just think of me and I'll know."_

_"I don't want to talk to you right now Nathair."_

_"Then stop thinking about me and I'll go away."_

_Harry dug his fingers into the seat, "And how am I supposed to do that?"_

_"Just stop thinking, it shouldn't be too hard for you."_

_He closed his eyes, and started to concentrate on the movement of the train. He felt the shifts and bumps, he could hear the engine and the, "That isn't working." Harry gritted his teeth and began to imagine Hogwarts. Would Hagrid be waiting for him when he arrived? Would he have to make the trip up to the castle on his own? "Stop whining Potter, I'm sure they'll have some poor sod waiting for you."_

_"Stop interrupting me! How am I supposed to get rid of you if you won't shut up?" he demanded angrily._

_"I knew you were angry," he answered smugly, and then, "I'll just have to break our link then, since you're not strong enough."_

_"How will I know you've gone?" he asked, but there was no response, only silence. He waited, and when he was finally sure he was alone he closed his eyes once more, only to be rudely interrupted by the jerking of the train as it came to a halt. Eyes flying open he looked out the window, and was greeted by the sight of a familiar platform. I'm here he thought stunned, I'm here and I didn't get any sleep. If you can hear me Nathair, he growled softly, I hate you, you bastard_.

Harry refilled his tea cup and wondered briefly if he should eat breakfast or wait and see how he felt later. The sugar he had added made his stomach churn sickly, later then, he decided. Flipping his book open, he took a blank piece of parchment and began trying to draw a better version of the blood pattern from his dream. _I know he wrote my name in that thing_, he frowned at the paper, it still looked wrong. He stared at the paper, _he added my name last_, he tapped the table absently, _perhaps I'm going about this wrong_. He took a drink of tea, _maybe it wasn't a pattern, maybe the entire thing was a jumble of words_. He sighed, _if so, it wasn't in any language I recognized_. He was so engrossed in his thoughts, that he failed to notice when someone else entered the Great Hall.

He had lost track of time again, hell, he had lost track of the day again. He often worked long hours, but during the summer, with no classes, his daily schedule became haphazard. There was no sun in the dungeons, and this caused his days to run together like water. If no one interrupted him, he would go throughout the day working until he was too tired to keep his eyes open. More than once he had found himself sleeping through most of the day and working at night. It was a bad habit, one he always swore to change the moment term started and threw him back into his normal routine. The beginning of term was always the worst, the first few mornings he would drag himself out of bed and skulk angrily to breakfast, ready to collapse by the end of the day.

Today was no different, term had yet to start and he found himself heading toward the Great Hall for supper, never mind that the rest of Hogwarts would be thinking of breakfast in a few hours. Not that there were many others still at the school, the other Professors did not usually return until the week before the start of classes. Hagrid was still at the school, as were Dumbledore and Filch, but aside from the Headmaster, Snape rarely saw anyone and the older wizard was often busy with the Order. He enjoyed his solitude, found it a welcome relief from forced conversations and social ineptness. No one wanted him at social gatherings, they cringed at the thought of sitting beside him at the table. He was not polite and he would not pretend to be. They disliked him and he liked it that way. No one bothered him, and he was happy with the arrangement.

His mind on what he would have for supper, Snape entered the Great Hall and stopped. There was someone already sitting at the High Table. He was bent over a mess of papers, the quill in his hand scratching madly back and forth. Severus frowned, the stranger was dressed casually in black trousers and a short sleeved shirt, his head down, making it impossible to see his face. Snape tried to remember if Dumbledore had mentioned a stranger arriving, but since he had not seen the Headmaster in several days left it to reason the old man had just not bothered to inform him. Narrowing his eyes he walked toward the table, the stranger still writing. The head bent over the table bore short black hair, as dark as his own. Standing across the table from him, Snape crossed his arms over his chest. Clearing his throat, he was about to ask the stranger exactly why he thought he could sit at the High Table, when the head jerked up. The Professor blinked in recognition, but it had taken a moment, "Potter."

The insolent boy raised an eyebrow, but made no comment. "What have you done to yourself?" That was an understatement, it was no wonder he had not recognized him at first. His hair lay against his head, no longer an unruly mess and seemingly darker than before. Of course the color could be his imagination, it had been three years since he'd seen the boy, and it did look familiar, just not on the annoying boy's head. The hair would have been enough to give him pause, but the absence of the boy's glasses made him look completely different.

"Eh?" his eyes narrowed slightly.

Snape snorted, "As vocally eloquent as ever I see." He waved a hand at his head, "Your hair, did you use a spell, or perhaps some sort of wizard hair treatment? I never thought you were vain Potter, but perhaps I was wrong. Not even your father worried about how his hair looked." The brat snickered at this, and Snape fumed, "Need to look good for your fan club? Did you get some of those muggle lenses for your eyes or have you invented a new spell to correct vision?" He sneered, "Now I know what you've been doing for three years, preening."

Green eyes narrowed, and then with a blink the anger was replaced with indifference. Something very useful he had learned from Draco. "Yes," he paused, "yes, no, definitely not, that's an understatement, no, no on both, and not quite."

_The boy was insane_. Snape stared at him as if he had turned purple. He would have left, except he was still hungry and was not about to let the horrid child chase him out of the Hall. He had come to eat and that was what he was going to do. His mouth set in an angry line, black eyes blazing he swept around the table to sit two seats down. Organizing his mess into a pile, the boy stuck it under the cover of a large leather bound book. Snape snorted, as if he cared what the fool was writing, probably letters to his silly friends. The boy held up a pot of tea, "Do you want any?"

He opened his mouth to snap no, but the prat had already begun to pour him a cup. "Do you want it plain or do you take something in it?" The older wizard gave him a look, "Plain it is then." He held the cup out by the saucer, Snape took it, but not before noticing a nasty looking bruise along the boy's inner elbow. He pointedly ignored it. "Do you always get up this early?" he asked suddenly.

Snape put the cup down, and turned a dark frown on the annoying boy, "Do you always ask so many inane questions?" His answer was a shrug. Snape glared, and then glared a little more for good measure, "no, do you?"

Harry grinned, "Oh no, I'm usually up much earlier." Severus blinked, trying to determine if he was serious or not, and then pulled a watch from his pocket. It read 6:23. The Potions Master frowned, he had flipped his day again. "Did you want breakfast? I can have Dobby send some."

Snape scowled, did he never shut up? "No I do not want breakfast. I came for supper, and I am quite able to request my own food."

The boy frowned and then laughed, "You're not up early are you? You've never gone to bed." Perhaps if he ignored him. The Professor glanced at him through the corner of his eye, no, he was still there. Harry rested his arms on the book before him, "Do you do that often?" His only answer was a grunt. "Well what do you do when term starts?" His eye twitched. "You know, that could be the reason you're always so..." he trailed off seeming to have finally run out of things to say.

Harry stopped himself, realizing just who it was he was talking to. He glanced at the other wizard, oh he was mad. _Now I've done it_, he thought, _and I was actually trying to be polite this time_. "I ah," he sighed, "sorry."

Snape glared, "Perhaps it would be best if you left Mr. Potter." He dropped the 'before I kill you' from the statement.

Harry was about to argue that he was supposed to stay through the entire term, when he realized the man meant the table. "Oh," he stood picking his book up. He looked as if he were going to say something else, but must have changed his mind. Turning he left the Great Hall, black eyes boring hatred into his back.

**_Part 2: A Spoonful of sugar...helps turn the stomach_**

After walking aimlessly around the school, he ended up returning to his room. He was extremely bored, but did not feel like seeking out company. He had seen Hagrid the evening before and had promised to visit him later, but that was hours away. The only other people in the school besides the ghosts and house elves, were Dumbledore, Filch and Snape. He was to see Dumbledore in an hour or so anyway, and of the later two one already wanted to kill him, no sense in pushing his luck any further. So he settled on reading instead. The book was one Hermione had sent him on ancient spells, they were mostly protective in nature, but there were a few rather nasty ones he found himself book-marking. Frowning he sighed, it had become second nature to him, his obsession with studying every curse he found within the dusty tomes he had collected.

It was a good thing he lived at Haven, otherwise his library might have caused a great deal of trouble. Endless books on long forgotten curses and studies on those still in use. He probably knew more about the Dark Arts than most if not all of Voldemort's Death Eaters. He finally understood Moody's doctrine, 'Constant Vigilance!' and had begun to put it to use. If he knew the curse before it was spoken he could counter it that much faster. It had helped the night they had retrieved the Mar family. If he had not known a _Shadow Guardian_ would protect against most curses, Snape might have been dead or at least badly hurt. He knew which curses were best to simply dodge, which were best to counter, and which were necessary to counter with protective spells. If you did not know the curse, use protection and attempt to dodge it. He had learned you could never be too careful.

Putting the book down he looked to the clock. It was nearly time for him to see the Headmaster. Deciding he would rather be early than sit still any longer, Harry left his room. Being _just_ to the right of the gargoyle which led to the Headmaster's office did have its advantages. Not only did he not have far to go, but he also had no worries of running into someone he did not want to see. Stepping up to the stone guardian he cleared his throat, "Pepper Imps." The gargoyle slid to the side granting him access to the stairs beyond. Climbing the steps, he hoped the older wizard wouldn't mind him being a few minutes early.

Knocking, he smiled at the greeting, "Come in Harry, you're early."

Entering the cheery office, he took a seat opposite the white haired wizard, "I hope it's all right, I just couldn't sit still any longer."

"Of course, you know you are welcome to come and see me anytime." Dumbledore held a candy dish out, "lemon drop?" he took one out of politeness, "How is the room?"

Harry leaned back in the chair, "It's perfect, thank you."

"Have you spoken with Severus yet?" Harry frowned, he had thought this would come much later in their conversation. Blue eyes studied him thoughtfully, "The longer you wait-"

"I know Headmaster." He did not want to discuss this right now. "But it's not hurting anything."

He sighed, "You are wrong there Harry." Dumbledore poured a cup of tea for him, adding two sugar cubes, "perhaps if you let me speak to him."

"We went over all of this before," Harry picked up the cup that had been set before him. He stared into the dark liquid, "I don't think he'll be very pleased to find out anyway." He set the cup back down, "Besides, there's still the whole Voldemort thing to worry about," he glanced up at the Headmaster, "or had you forgotten that?"

"You need to tell him, for both of you." The younger wizard frowned,_he isn't even listening to me_.

There really was no way around the Headmaster, _I promised I wouldn't let him bully me, but he is just so_- he sighed, "All right Headmaster, I'll tell him, I already told you I would."

"When?"

Harry frowned, _so he isn't going to let me get away with that again_, "In a month or so, is that good enough?"

The older wizard nodded, "All right Harry, but if you decide you want me to speak with him instead, I will." He nodded, his stomach churning angrily. "Good, then we will discuss some less stressful issues now shall we."

"Yes sir," he answered quietly, drinking his tea.

"The Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor Professor Hart will be returning to Hogwarts sometime next week. I'm sure you will get on fine with him, he is a very easy going fellow, Severus doesn't even seem to be able to faze him." Harry was impressed with this news, "Now we need to find you an office of sorts, Professor Hart's is much too small to accommodate both of you."

"You could just stick a desk in my room," he suggested hopefully.

Dumbledore shook his head, his eyes twinkling merrily, "Severus suggested the exact same thing." Harry snorted, the Headmaster laughed, "No Harry, I don't mean about you, I mean when he first started teaching."

The young wizard made a face, "You can put me wherever you like Headmaster, just don't compare me with him."

The older wizard shook his head sadly, "I think we can find someplace without much difficulty, do you have any specific requests?"

Harry frowned, he had not thought about that, "A window perhaps?" he asked uncertainly, "so that Hedwig might fly in if she likes."

"That can be arranged, anything else?"

He bit his lip in thought, _is there anything else? What am I going to be doing anyway? Professor Hart is teaching, I'm just an assistant_. Then an idea came to him, _as long as I'm here I might as well make myself useful_. "Sir, would it be all right if I offered the students help if they need it? I could set up a sheet with all of the times I am available during the week and they could fill it in." Harry smiled, he really would enjoy helping the students, "and not just in Defense either sir, I wouldn't mind talking to them if they need it," he sat forward, "I'd of course keep you informed of their problems if there were any."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea Harry. I'll have to find you a comfortable room for your office, we want the children feeling at ease." He smiled happily, "I'm sure you will do a fine job." The Headmaster stood, "I will have your robes and the things you will need for the term sent up to your room. As soon as I have a suitable room for your office I will send for you."

He nodded happily, "Thank you sir, I'm actually looking forward to the term now." Helping new witches and wizards learn at Hogwarts, perhaps making a difference for them. Harry smiled, yes he was actually looking forward to it.

"I'll see you at dinner then?" Harry nodded, heading for the door, "oh and Harry," the young man looked back, "do tell Severus." His smile faltered. The Headmaster really did know how to turn his stomach. He nodded silently, and then began his journey down the stairs, his stomach sick once more. And to think, he had actually been looking forward to the new term.

TBC

_Just how does Morte's spell involve Harry?  
And what does it do for that matter?  
What does Dumbledore want Harry to tell Severus?  
Will Draco ever learn to cook[probably not  
Exactly what rule was Harry supposed to have bent?  
And what is up with Harry's hair?_

Join me next time where "Nothing much Happens" and once again, none of these questions will be answered. Although, an earlier question's answer will be found among its pages!


	4. Chapter 4 Where Nothing Much Happens

Disclaimer: The world & Characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and not to me.  
Rating: PG-13 for some violence  
Description: Action-Adventure/Drama/Mystery

_**Blood & Dust**  
Chapter 4: Where Nothing Much Happens_

  
**_Part 1 The repeat offender_**

His first week back went by rather quickly. Between visits to Hagrid and learning how to ignore Draco, he had hardly noticed the time pass. True to Dumbledore's word he received his new robes and books for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes the day after they had spoken. The _office_, the Headmaster had set up for him was a bit more than he had expected. It was larger than he thought it should have been, nearly as large as Dumbledore's own office. From what he could remember from his school days, it was much larger than the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor's office. This made Harry extremely embarrassed. What would he say when he met the man? Would he assume Harry had insisted on a larger office, that he felt he was more important than the rest of the staff? Snape would decidedly think so, but what of the other professors? Harry sighed, this term at Hogwarts did not look as if it were going to be any different than his previous years. 

He had reluctantly accepted the office from the Headmaster. Only after the older wizard had threatened to put him in one of the dungeon rooms had he relented. Being thought pompous was a far cry better than having an office near Snape the entire term. Now he was stuck The office more than fit his needs. Not only was there a window, but a fireplace as well. The window was on the wall opposite the door. His desk was stationed in front of it. Behind the desk was his chair, soft and highly comfortable leather, facing the door. On the other side of the desk were two more chairs, these would face him when he sat at his desk. They were obviously for visitors. On either side of the window there was a bookcase. Both bookcases stretched from floor to ceiling, window to wall. He had written to Higgs the moment he had seen the bare shelves, asking him to send his library to Hogwarts. Hermione would have been proud, Harry's small library had grown considerably over the years, and he had actually read every one of the books present. 

If he was sitting at his desk, the fireplace would be along the wall to his right. Against the same wall, a Grandfather clock stood patiently counting the seconds. Much to Harry's growing embarrassment, there was also a couch and table. The table rested between the fireplace and the couch, it was a foot and a half tall and nearly as long as the couch behind it. There were scuff marks on its surface, probably from someone's boot heels repeatedly resting against it. The couch faced the fireplace and was well used and comfortable. He had a sneaking suspicion that none of the Professors had couches in their offices. The wall to his left was mostly bare, it housed the door to a large closet, some shelves, and not much else. 

The office was usually on the second floor, hardly fifteen feet from his room. Of course the second day he had been using it, he had left and found himself on the fourth floor, but that was not uncommon at Hogwarts. The office had been Dumbledore's own before he had become Headmaster, and it still felt extremely warm and lived in. He had _called_ it down from one of the towers and _asked_ it to stay near Harry. Dumbledore had warned him that it would move, but that as soon as he started looking for it he would most definitely find it. That had always been the way with it, the old wizard had informed him. He had never lost his office, but it had never been where he had left it. "You'll get used to it," he had assured Harry, "and so will the students." 

Harry had noticed immediately that the window, no matter what part of the castle he found his office currently residing, had the exact same view. Dumbledore had only nodded, saying he thought Hedwig would find it easier if the window remained in the same location even if the office itself moved. Accepting this, as it seemed normal for the magical castle, Harry had been grateful that his owl would at least have no troubles finding his office. The older wizard may have assured him he would have no problem finding the office, but Harry was still a bit nervous. He did not find the idea of wandering around Hogwarts searching for the room very appealing. _Well_ he thought to himself,_I could always figure out where the window is located and crawl in from the outside_. 

Looking to the clock he rubbed his temples absently, it was time for lunch and Dumbledore was waiting for him. Harry knew, even though the older wizard had not told him, that Professor Hart had returned and would be in the Great Hall. He knew, because the Defense Professor had been expected to return for the last two days, and because the Headmaster, who had made it a point he would introduce Harry to the man, had specifically asked him to join him at one o'clock for lunch. Leaving his office, the young wizard was mildly surprised to find himself back on the second floor. Closing the door he followed the hall to the stairway. Finding his way to the Great Hall, Harry entered feeling a bit nervous. 

He had been right. Seated beside the Headmaster was who Harry guessed must be Professor Hart. The man stood as he approached, his hazel eyes reflecting his warm smile, "Harry Potter, I am so pleased to finally meet you." 

Harry felt a bit embarrassed, "Thank you sir." He took the offered hand and felt his arm being pumped up and then down. 

"Call me Quin, we will after all, be working together." Harry nodded, Dumbledore had been right, the man seemed extremely good-natured. "Sit, sit," he gestured to the table, "I don't want to keep you standing around all day." 

Joining the two older wizards at the table, Harry accepted a cup of tea and added two sugar cubes to it. While he stirred his tea the other wizard turned back to him, "So Harry, are you excited about the coming term?" 

He nodded, "yes sir, I was speaking to Dumbledore about maybe setting up a sheet with all the times I was available, and letting the students come and see me if they need help with their studies or just want to vent to someone." 

He was nodding, "I think, and this is only if you want to do it this way," he began, "that you should sit in class with me for the first couple of weeks. Get to know the students, and then if you want, instead of wasting your time listening to me drone on you could see students." He smiled, "That way the students who don't have class can see you if they need help." The man leaned back in his seat, running a hand through slightly graying ash blond hair, "I mean otherwise you wouldn't have any time to yourself at all." 

Harry blinked, he had not thought of that, "I think that would work well, thank you sir." 

During the rest of lunch, Harry found himself listening to several ludicrous, and yet extremely entertaining, stories. Professor Hart was an exceedingly good story teller. He seemed to enjoy embellishment and made no attempt at hiding it. At first Harry had wondered if the man was trying to be serious, but after the first few minutes, when Dumbledore joined in, he realized they were only joking. It was a game of sorts, to see who could tell the most ridiculous story. 

Near the end of lunch, Harry had one question he really wanted answered, but was unsure of how to ask it. "Professor Hart, how were your classes last term, you didn't have any problems did you?" He had actually wanted to ask why he was still teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts when every teacher preceding him had abandoned the job after their first year. Of course to be fair, a few did not really have a choice, but they had still only taught one year. The man was breaking a Hogwarts tradition. 

Hart seemed to ponder the question for a moment, "They went rather well Harry," he smiled, "But I think I know what you really want to ask." His voice was filled with mirth, "You're wondering how I was able to make it through the curse and perhaps why I'm having another go at it." He leaned back sipping a glass of apple juice, "Well, to be quite frank, nothing horrid happened last year," he grinned, "no Death Eater attack, no mythical beasts woke to roam the halls, not even a false alarm." He took another drink, "I must admit, I was a bit put off. I had hoped for something more exciting," Harry was staring at him now, trying to decide if he was serious or not, "maybe I'm just trying to get my due by repeating another year." He put his glass down, his eyes shining merrily, "And after hearing Harry Potter was going to be joining us, I knew I had made the correct decision. I'm sure this year will be much more interesting." 

The conviction in his tone near the end of his answer gave Harry an uncomfortable feeling. He felt as if the answer held a bit too much truth for his liking. It was true that he had not had a restive career at Hogwarts, no quite the opposite. Every year he had found himself sparring with either Voldemort or one of his followers. Would it happen again this year? He had tried not to think about it, but the thought had been lurking in the back of his mind since the moment Higgs had told him he was returning to his old school. He did not want to bring trouble down on Dumbledore, and he especially did not want to endanger any of the students. It was something he would have to think about, if Voldemort tried to get to him this year he would have to insist Higgs move him. His stomach gave a lurch, and he paled slightly. 

"Are you all right Harry?" there was concern in the Professor's tone, "I was only joking, I enjoy teaching at Hogwarts." The younger wizard nodded, Hart clapped him on the back, "I tend to go off too often, don't pay me any mind." 

Harry swallowed, "Yes sir." He smiled weakly, "I have a few things I need to take care of," he turned to Dumbledore and then Hart, "if you will excuse me." 

The Headmaster turned worried eyes on him, "Of course Harry, if you need to discuss anything-" he always left the invitation open. 

_Great_, he thought, _now I have the Headmaster worried about me_. _Stupid_. _Stupid_. He pushed his chair in, "I'm fine, perhaps a bit tired." He forced a rather convincing smile, "There just seems to be so much to do." The older wizard seemed to accept this, and Harry sighed inwardly. 

Turning to leave he heard Hart call out, "oh and Harry," he paused in the doorway looking back, "do call me Quin." 

**_Part 2 Letters, letters, letters..._**

He wandered the halls absently, and was rather pleased when he found himself before a familiar door. Entering his office he dropped bonelessly into the soft leather chair behind his desk. Reaching into his pocket he drew out a black velvet pouch. He picked one pink and white striped candy from its depths and slipped it into his mouth. Tucking the bag back into a pocket, he leaned back, his gaze sweeping over the room. After adding a few things the office seemed a bit more his own. The Hogwarts crest rested happily above the fireplace, depicting each house equally. Along the walls he had added pictures of his friends and makeshift family. Their happy smiles and winks made him feel safe and comfortable. He could glance from one photo to the next, each a reminder of someone who cared for him, and smile. They were filled with pleasant memories, and he had been determined to surround himself with them. 

The four shelves he had filled with odds and ends he had brought with him from Haven. His diploma, which he was very proud of, sat on the top shelf directly between two dragon figurines. He had graduated with honors in nearly all of his classes, and he had received a certificate from the Ministry for outstanding achievement in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Divination of all things. There were several other _'mythical'_ creature figures, a few were chipped and one poor unicorn was missing half a leg, but they had all been placed on the shelves with care. An old and rather battered music box sat on the bottom shelf accompanied by a glass case housing a fluttering snitch and twin silver candles which sat on either ends of the shelf. 

On the left hand side of his desk he had placed a perch for Hedwig. She would be able to fly in through the window and stay with him as long as she pleased. There was a water dish and a small tray for any bits of food he might want to spoil her with attached along the side of the perch. Having a place for Hedwig was important to him, she was more than an owl she was his friend. She had been with him when he had first come to Hogwarts, she had been with him every summer when he returned to the Dursleys and she had been with him when he had moved to Haven. Seeing her made him feel comforted, she reminded him that some things remained, even when everything else changed. 

On his desk he had a picture Hermione had made him as a birthday present a few years back. It was a collage of their friends and the people they had known from Hogwarts. It was one of the only pictures he had on display that he was actually in. The center of the collage was his mother holding him as a baby, around her were pictures of his _family_. Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, Sirius, Dumbledore, and his father. Surrounding them were the rest of the Weasley family and all of his friends from Hogwarts. The farther from the center the pictures were, the smaller they became, until they were barely visible around the frame. Hermione insisted everyone from their seven years at Hogwarts was in it. Some much smaller than others, but they were there if you had the eyesight, time and patience to look. 

Opposite the collage, on the right hand side of his desk, was another picture. This photo, framed in silver, was of his family from Haven. Higgs had spelled it to remain still, and it looked strange among all of the shifting images in the office. In the picture, Harry stood in the center of the group laughing, the cause of his mirth being the two figures to his right. Draco was hunched over, his face toward the ground, while a pretty girl perched playfully on his back. Fiona had chosen that exact moment to leap atop the stunned blond. Elbows resting just below his neck, her chin was cushioned by the palms of her hands. Her body stretched out over the young wizard's back, knees bent she had her legs crossed and pointed toward the sky. To Harry's left Leon stood glaring past him to Draco. Directly behind them stood Douglas, a hand on either of their shoulders, he was smiling and looking toward the camera, seemingly oblivious to the events to his right. Kearney stood beside Leon, a hand pressed to his mouth, his eyes dancing merrily. Hideaki stood slightly behind Draco to his right, the Japanese wizard had both eyebrows raised, but had managed not to laugh. At the far right stood Higgs, ramrod straight and as serious as ever, his arms were crossed in a no nonsense manner and he seemed to be consciously ignoring the young wizard and witch beside him. 

This was Harry's favorite picture of his compatriots. They were relaxed and happy. If the picture had not been spelled it would have rotated between Draco attempting to smile and then being shoved forward by the young woman. He could almost see the astonished look as his face disappeared toward the ground, Fiona's huge smile and wink, Leon stepping toward them, his own doubled over laughter, Hideaki's mouth twitching into a smile, Douglas' look of confusion, Kearney's eyes tearing with suppressed mirth, and Higgs' eye roll when he thought no one was looking. He sighed, of course Higgs would not have allowed him to take it without the spell, so he was forced to imagine the way the events played themselves out. He smiled, even spelled it made him laugh. 

The rest of his desk was fairly bare. He had an ink well, and a quill, but not much else. Resting his head against the desk he closed his eyes. His stomach was settling, and he was relatively relieved that his head had not started to hurt. He fought a yawn, and discovered he was a bit tired. Turning green eyes to Hermione's collage, he found a certain face and he wondered briefly if he shouldn't have asked Higgs to spell it as well. He rested his head against one arm and watched his mother rock his baby self gently back and forth, but his eyes kept falling to the other picture. He reached into a drawer with his free hand and pulled out a roll of white tape. Ripping a piece off he covered the offensive face and then went back to watching his mother. 

A soft tapping at the window drew his attention. Turning he found an unfamiliar owl perched on his window sill. Opening the window he accepted the letter attached to its leg and then watched it fly happily to Hedwig's perch. As the owl drank from the water dish, Harry opened his letter. A small card fell to his desk as he pulled the parchment from the envelope. Picking it up he smiled, it was Ron and Hermione's wedding invitation. On Saturday, November 24 they would be married, it was only months away. He set the invitation down and picked up the letter. 

**Hey Harry,**

** It's me Ron, I wanted to send you a letter with your invitation (you know just sending the time and place and stuff seemed kinda impersonal to me). Anyway, how've ya been? Me and Herm really miss you, but I know your work has probably kept you plenty busy. [otherwise I'm sure you would have owled us (hint, nudge, write us you prat!)**

Harry felt bad about that, he had meant to write. 

**  
I've been buried beneath scrolls (literally) and they just won't seem to stop. Although, I have gotten really good at sorting the stacks into Imperative - Important - & Rubbish. You have no idea how much rubbish I get! Mr. so and so thinks his neighbor is You-Know-Who. Mrs. so and so says a strange cat has been hanging around her house at night. Arg! And I have to sort through all of them on the off chance that one of them might have merit. Has the entire insane part of the Wizarding community started sending me letters? I swear if I get one more letter about how the entire English Quidditch team has been replaced by Death Eaters I am going to scream. Although it might explain why they stink so bad this year.**

He laughed, it was the same old Ron, promotion hadn't changed him a bit. 

**But I'm sure you have just as many problems in your branch of the Mysteries Department huh? What exactly do you people do there?** The usual, Harry thought, foiling diabolical schemes and covering it up. **And how come I can never get a hold of you in your office? Do you even use it?** Harry frowned, he hadn't even known he'd had an office. **I know you're in a relatively new area of the department, something about investigating new (or is it old) artifacts and spells.** Harry felt a tendril of guilt, he had hated lying to his two best friends, but Higgs had demanded it. They were to be working in a new branch of the Mysteries department that could call them away at a moment's notice. No one would think anything of their strange trips, or the fact that they were never at the Ministry itself. There were only a few people who knew about their real work, and it was safer that way. **Trying to find ways of fighting You-Know-Who right? I know they send you all over, have you been to any really interesting places?** Do Death Eater raids count? **I guess that's why you're always out. You shouldn't let them work you so hard, take a vacation or something. Just don't burn yourself out. **

Mione wants to know if you've been eating properly. He winced. **She's going to send you a care package so watch out!** Please don't embarrass me Hermione. **And remember, we're going to see you at the wedding so no use in trying to lie to us about how you've been doing.** That gives me nearly three months. **We'll be able to tell if you're wearing yourself thin or not. Also we'll be seeing you at the rehearsal dinner too, so if you look too thin or something I'm sure Hermione, Ginny and Mum will stuff you full of food.** He frowned at this, he had lost some weight, nothing to be worried about but he would still look too thin to the three women. He turned back to the letter. 

**Do you have a date for the wedding Harry? I'm not trying to pry.** Yes you are. **I'm just.. okay I'll be straight with you. Ginny doesn't have a date and doesn't really have anyone in mind. Except for the obvious (which is you in case it isn't so blatant) She wants to go with you, but you haven't asked her and she doesn't know whether to wait or try and find someone to go with. If you have a date she'd probably have a terrible time if she didn't ask anyone, and if you don't have a date she'd probably have a terrible time if she did bring someone. Of course if you do have a date then forget everything I've written. But if you don't then maybe you might want to ask her.**

Harry was forced to re-read the entire paragraph a second time. Ron tended to babble even in his letters. He sighed, he had not planned on bringing anyone. Words from his mother's letter floated to his conscious 'I'm in no position to marry someone right now, what with the war and my Auror duties'. That was the exact way he felt. He did not want to burden someone with worry, or endanger them. It was better to remain alone. He stared at the words, but did that mean he couldn't even take a date to his two best friends' wedding? One date did not mean he was engaged, and who was going to see who would tell an enemy? Harry started thinking, his eyes returning to the letter. 

**I mean you are going to be my Best Man and she's Herm's Maid of Honor, so you two will be dancing anyway. I mean, I sound like an idiot don't I? Anyway, she likes you Harry and I know you like her, so stop being silly and ask her.**

He shifted uncomfortably, he did like Ginny. Maybe he was being silly. 

**But I don't want you to ask her if you're only doing it cause I told you to.** That was so like Ron. **Only do it if you really do like her and want to go with her. If you ask her and don't want to she'll find out somehow and it will hurt her feelings. She's my sister Harry but you're like another brother to me and you two- well I should stop now before I make a complete arse out of myself.** Too late. 

**Anyway, we miss you a whole lot! Come and visit us and send us loads of letters! We'll see you soon, **

Ron

P.S. You'll probably get your care package within the week. Great. 

**And you can invite your friends from work, just let us know how many (especially if you go with Ginny cause then we have both of your guest spots to work with)** Not at all pushy are you. 

**Oh and Harry, do not tell Hermione I said anything about Ginny. Thanks! **

P.P.S I just found out you're to be at Hogwarts! Let me know when we can come and see you. 

Harry smiled despite himself. Same old Ron, don't tell Hermione indeed. He laughed; he had the right mind to send her a copy. He pulled a fresh piece of parchment from his desk and began to write. 

**Ron, **

I'm sorry I haven't written you and Hermione lately, I was busy, but that's not an excuse. I was very pleased to get your letter; you don't know how much I needed it. You can tell Hermione I am eating just fine and do not need to be mothered. But I do appreciate the concern. I am still getting settled in at Hogwarts, but I would love for you and Hermione to come and visit. Classes start next week, so I will probably be pretty busy. Perhaps the weekend after that? Would that be all right for you two? I should know what I'm doing by then, and if not I don't see how it would hurt to see you both. I've sent my card back with this letter, you'll note my check mark Ron. If you're sure about inviting my work friends, there are seven of them. I'll still have to ask them to be sure they can come, but several will jump at the chance to go. 

I promise I will write again soon, and I can't wait to see you both, 

Harry 

He re-read the letter, and then picked up the card he was to send his reply on. Checking the box next to one, he slipped it into the envelope alongside his letter. He addressed the envelope and then tied it to the owl beside him. "Ronald Weasley," he instructed. The owl leapt from the perch and dove out the window. Tapping his finger on the desk he pulled out another piece of parchment. 

**Ms. Genevra Weasley, **

I was hoping you would allow me the honor of accompanying you to Ron and Hermione's wedding this November. 

H. Potter 

He folded it over and slipped it into another envelope. Hoping it sounded all right, he addressed it carefully. Hedwig would be pleased, another letter so quickly. He grinned, and this time she would be pampered after delivering it. Taking the letter to the owl, he found he had been correct. Watching her fly out of the Owlery he left to see if he might find his office again. He had not walked for more than a few minutes before his eyes settled on the dark wood of the familiar door. Dumbledore seemed to have been right, he was getting used to finding the office. When he was not consciously looking he found it much sooner. It drew him, and now that he knew what to feel for he let his legs carry him toward the familiar pull without even thinking about it. 

Sitting back down at his desk he folded Ron's letter and slipped it into his desk beside a lone piece of parchment. Pausing, he picked the other paper up. It was the reply he had gotten from Higgs several days earlier. He read the words again, a fierce anger burning his cheeks. 

**Harry, **

Do NOT try anything! You are to stay at Hogwarts. We will look into the matter, although without more information there is not much we can do. 

H. 

As if he were a child who needed to be reminded to stay put. He was not stupid, if he had intended to investigate, he would not have owled Higgs first. Pushing the note back into the drawer he slammed it shut. His mouth pressed into a thin line he crossed his arms over his chest. _And I shouldn't have used the mind link to tell Draco the rest of the dream either_. _Having him tell Higgs about it was a mistake, even if it was a safer way to discuss things than by owl_. Harry closed his eyes. _Now I have to put up with reporting to Higgs through Draco every night_, he thought glumly. _As if there is ever anything to report_. _The old goat just wants to check up on me_. 

He looked to the clock, Dumbledore would want him to join him for dinner in a few hours. He glanced to the table resting between the couch and fireplace. There was a large bowl of candy sitting in the middle of it. The old wizard had brought it down to him the day before. He had yet to touch it, and supposed he could leave it for students. They had a short conversation about how Harry addressed him, but the younger wizard would not relent on that particular issue. 

_"Harry, you're part of the staff now, you should call me Albus. There's no need to be so formal." _

Harry frowned, "I'm sorry Headmaster, but I don't think I would be very comfortable calling you by your first name." He did not know how to put it into words, but calling the older wizard by his first name would have been like calling a grandfather by his name. Harry had never known what it was like to have grandparents, and seeing as he did not quite understand the feeling himself, could not really explain it to the older wizard. 

"Well," he patted him on the shoulder, "if it will make you feel better I suppose Dumbledore or Headmaster will do for now." 

Harry shook his head, and now Professor Hart wants me to call him Quin. What is it with them? He laughed, I'm sure Snape won't mind me calling him sir or Professor. He suddenly wondered how long it had taken the Potions Master to call the Headmaster by his name after he had started as a Professor. Deciding he really did not care, Harry pulled one of the Defense text books from the bookcase and started reading. If he was going to be of any use to the students, he would have to at least know what they were going to be taught. 

**_Part 3 The Welcoming Feast_**

The rest of the professors had returned during the week, and before he knew it Harry found that September 1st had arrived. He was both excited and nervous as he made his way down the hall, hoping he was not late. His office had decided to let him out in a tower and he had been forced to walk down seven flights of stairs. He entered the Great Hall and very nearly turned right back. The entire staff, save McGonagall and Snape were already seated. Harry knew the seat beside the Headmaster was for the Transfigurations Professor, which left only two other chairs; the two seats at the end. He gave each and every one of them a glare as he made his way to the empty chairs. Sitting down beside Professor Hart he sighed grumpily. The man had the nerve to grin at him. Harry scowled back. "I could trade with you," the older wizard offered.

Harry saw the dark form of the Potions Professor enter the Hall. "No," he answered, "that's all right." _Like I want him to see me scrambling to change seats_. 

Snape paused, his eyes settling on Harry Potter. He shot Dumbledore an angry look, and then took his seat. "I see you were the last fool to the table Potter." 

He tightened his grip on the arms of his chair, "Apparently," he replied tonelessly. _It was more an insult to himself_, Harry told himself silently, _don't make him right_. 

"Severus, where have you been hiding?" the question came from Professor Hart, "I've been back nearly a week and this is the first I've seen you." 

He turned cold eyes toward the Defense teacher, his glare turned Harry's stomach. His mouth was set in a very thin line, "Some people actually have work they need to do." 

Hart smiled, "Yes I'm sure with the new term there is a lot that needs to be done." 

Snape narrowed his eyes, and then turned back to watch the doors, the students finding their seats. He scanned the crowd, looking for two children in particular. His eyes settled on Crispin Mar and he leaned forward slightly. The boy's younger sister followed along silently to his left. They were alive then. He followed their progress until they sat together at the Gryffindor table. If Dumbledore would have allowed it, he would have pulled the children aside and questioned them. It aggravated him that two children sitting not fifty feet from him might hold answers to questions he was not permitted to ask. 

Harry followed Snape's gaze. He found himself staring at the Mar children._Of course_, he thought suddenly, _he must have been wondering what happened to them_. 

"Ah," Professor Hart exclaimed happily, "here come the new first years." 

Harry sat through the Sorting Hat's song, waiting patiently for the first child to take the stool. Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a roll of parchment. "When I call your name you are to sit on the stool, put on the hat and wait to be sorted." She held the parchment up, "Bell, Josephine." A small raven haired girl hurried forward to sit on the stool nervously. The hat slipped past her ears and covered her eyes. There was a moment's pause and then "GRYFFINDOR!" Harry clapped softly as the girl hurried to her new House's table. Snape sneered beside him, _oh no_, Harry thought angrily, _I am not like you_, _I will never be like you_. 

"Clark, Devon." The boy picked up the hat and slipped it on his head as he sat down. The hat took a little longer to decide, "SLYTHERIN!" He placed the hat back on the stool and made his way toward the Slytherin's table. Blinking he paused slightly as he passed the end of the High Table. He had heard the rumors on the train, and he found they had been true. Harry Potter was sitting among the Hogwarts staff, and he was clapping. He had seen him clap for the girl before him, but she was already seated, he frowned, why was he still clapping? Then the realization hit, Harry Potter was clapping for _him_. It made sense for him to clap for the Bell girl, she had been sorted into his old house, but Devon had been put in Slytherin. He felt his stomach unclench, perhaps some of the things he had been told on the train were not true. He took a seat, but continued to watch the famous wizard with something like awe. 

Snape stared at him. Harry fought a smile, but continued to clap for each and every student as they were sorted. _I will not show favoritism_, he chanted, _I will not clap harder for any house_. He wanted the students to feel comfortable with him, and that meant treating them equally and fairly. His quiet applause had not gone unnoticed. Reactions ranged from pride to tears. The tears came from a newly sorted Hufflepuff girl. She had watched him through each and every one of her new classmates sortings, her large eyes shining. When she had removed the hat her eyes had sought him out and she had instantly burst into tears. Harry had been surprised by the girl's reaction. He had no idea he would have such an immense impact on the first years. Tears sliding down her cheeks she had smiled brightly to him and then raced quickly to her house table. He heard a snort from his right, he ignored him. 

When the last child was sorted, a tall blond girl who ended up in Ravenclaw, Dumbledore began the feast. He introduced Harry, never mind that all of the students had somehow already known he was going to be there. They had been busy straining their necks to get a look at him the moment they entered the Hall. As soon as the food arrived however, they seemed to lose interest in him and turned their attention to more important things, like roast beef. 

Harry studied the feast before him, trying to decide on something safe. His hand moved from one dish to the next, hovering slightly but never serving himself any. Finally settling on cream of tomato soup, he failed to notice two sets of eyes watching him. 

_"Harry?"_

He set his spoon down, "Yes?" 

Professor Hart looked at him slightly confused, "Did you say something Harry?" 

He opened his mouth to reply, but bit his lip instead. He looked into his soup, "uh, sorry." _Not now Nathair_, he thought,_I'm still in the Great Hall_. 

_"Higgs wants me to check up on you."_

Hart was saying something to him, "-myself doing the exact same thing a few times." Harry nodded, not really knowing what he was agreeing to. 

_"So,"_ he sounded annoyingly amused, _"how are you?"_

He closed his eyes, every time Draco spoke, he drowned out the rest of the room. _Fine, tell Higgs I'm fine_. Hart was staring at him as if waiting for a response, "Sorry?" _oh I really sound like an idiot now._

_"Don't worry Potter, I'm sure they're used to it by now."_ He ignored Draco and tried to concentrate on what the Professor was saying. 

The man held up a platter, "Roast beef?" He shook his head, but then glanced to his right to see if Snape wanted any. The Potions Master was watching him with narrowed eyes. _Now what have I done_? he wondered briefly, _oh right, I'm still here_. 

_"Tell the bastard to sod off,"_ Draco advised. Harry glared at his soup, _"that should work."_

He chanced a glance back, he was still staring at him. Fighting the overwhelming urge to ask what was so damn interesting, Harry looked back to his soup. "Potatoes?" He blinked, and looked back to Hart. _Why was the man trying to feed him_? He shook his head a second time. 

_"Probably because you don't eat."_

_"I'm eating soup,"_ best keep his answers short. 

_"What a change,"_ Draco was getting on his nerves,_"maybe I should report your lack of appetite to Higgs."_ Harry gritted his teeth, _"I'm sure he'd be interested, probably order you to eat a full breakfast tomorrow."_

"I'll eat or won't eat as I please, thank you very much!" The shocked look on Professor Hart's face as he lowered the carrots back to the table caused Harry to groan inwardly. _I said that aloud didn't I_, he felt his cheeks turning red. If he had thought it would help the situation any, he would have banged his head against the table. It was all Draco's fault, the nasty git knew his stomach was the worst in the mornings. Harry suddenly found his spoon extremely interesting, _should I apologize? I'm either going to look insane or really rude_. A soft snicker from his right drew his attention. Looking at Snape from the corner of his eye, the young wizard frowned, he had the strangest expression on his face. He almost looked amused. 

Snape had only wanted to eat supper and leave, but that was too much to ask. From the moment he had walked into the Great Hall he had known he was cursed. Potter had been the last to the table. Scowling, he had taken his seat beside the horrid boy. During the Sorting ceremony he had put on quite the show, clapping for every pitiful child who put on the hat. But that had not been enough, at some point while they were eating he began to act strangely again. Severus had sat staring at him, thinking, _the boy is insane_. He had started making faces at his soup, and just as he had at the funeral, his mouth had begun moving. It was only a slight movement, but it was as if he were holding a private conversation no one else could hear. He seemed distracted, and barely noticed when Hart began shoving platters of food at him. For a moment Snape had actually felt indignation for him, it was obvious the boy did not want any of it. Hart held out a bowl of carrots, _oh give up_, Severus thought when the boy took him by surprise. 

The words, "I'll eat or won't eat as I please, thank you very much!" hissed from his mouth in a very dangerous tone. He had tried to snort, but it had come out wrong. He could not help it, the look of shock on Hart's face had done it. The man had deserved it, and if it had not been Potter who had said it, Snape might have shaken his hand. The obnoxious man had been getting under his skin for an entire year, and nothing he did seemed to bother him in return. Now, with one simple sentence Potter had stunned him. Finishing his potatoes, Severus Snape decided, that perhaps just for this one night he might actually like Harry Potter. 

TBC

_Why did Higgs use magic to still Harry's picture?  
Was Hart being truthful when he said he was joking or were his first comments the truth?  
Who's face was it that Harry covered in the picture Hermione gave him?  
And will Hagrid ever actually be in the story?_

Please read "And Rumors Abound" the next chapter in "Blood & Dust" where once more none of these questions will be answered. 


	5. Chapter 5 And Rumors Abound

Disclaimer: The world & Characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and not to me.  
Rating: PG-13 for some violence  
Description: Action-Adventure/Drama/Mystery

_**Blood & Dust**__  
Chapter 5: And Rumors Abound_

_**Part 1 Dreams & Visions**_

_Someone was singing softly, and stroking his hair. The hand was gentle and comforting, loving. He felt safe. The voice was soft and __warm,__ there were no real words to the song, just a softly hummed melody. Fingers smoothed the hair from his forehead, stroked his face lovingly. He felt her feather light kiss on his forehead, the whispered words of love. Warmth filled him, held him in a protective embrace. He wanted to see her, but he could not open his eyes. The soft humming was getting farther away, he could barely hear it. He tried to call to her, but his voice would not work. The protective warmth was draining away, and he could feel the cold darkness stealing his safety. He reached out, trying to find her, but she was gone._

_It was cold. He opened his eyes. There was no light, the darkness blanketed him completely. He reached out aimlessly, his arms moving sluggishly as if under water. There was nothing around him, just a deep black void. The air was thick and cold, and stank like decay. He moved forward, trying desperately to find something substantial. His hands grasped through the dark void to no avail. The stench of death clung to him, covered him. It pressed in on him, making it hard to breath. The darkness was stifling, touching him everywhere. It entwined itself in his hair like fingers, clinging to him. It shifted over his skin, sliding over wrists and chest and neck. Dark tendrils slipped forcefully into his mouth choking him. Cold and dark it filled him. The panic began to build in his chest, tight and frightening. He could feel a scream trying to claw its way past his throat, but the darkness held him._

_He struggled vainly to free himself. The darkness tightened its hold, cutting into his wrists, choking him. He felt himself becoming cold. His fingers clawed helplessly at the darkness, passing through it to rip at his own flesh. He could feel cold fingers squeezing his heart, drawing out every last bit of heat his body possessed. His strength was diminishing, fleeing his tired body to be replaced by the cold. He had no energy left to __fight,__ it was a struggle to keep his eyes open. There was nothing to see, but the darkness, there was nothing to feel, but the cold. He was dead inside. The cold dragged him down, the darkness seeping into his eyes._

_For one blissful moment he felt nothing, and then he was filled with fire. Pain raced through his spine, cascading through his nerves like a wave. Bright white light burned his eyes, blinding him. He tried to scream, but his voice had fled. His wrists and chest burned where the darkness had cut into him. Searing pain cut through him, stealing his breath. His heart raced, pumping burning agony throughout his body. He could feel the fire pushing the darkness from him. The cold twisted and writhed inside him trying to escape the waves of burning vengeance. He could feel them battling within him, tearing and ripping. Hot white pain filled his stomach, stabbing him over and over again. The cold burst in his stomach like a million knives digging outward. White hot flames licked at the remains, burning the darkness to nothing. He fought back a sob as a brilliant flash of grinding torment tore at his insides, and then he was still_.

He lay panting, his body aching. He shifted slightly, and slowly became aware of the mattress beneath him. Opening his eyes he was greeted with the sight of white sheets. Pushing himself up, his muscles screaming, he felt twin tears slip down his cheeks. _What the hell_, he thought weakly. He glanced to the clock in the corner, a quarter after four. He breathed deeply, his chest tight. Swinging his legs off the bed he hissed from the movement. He blinked, his mind felt heavy, his thoughts fuzzy. A sharp blinding pain shot through his scar, burning behind his eyes. The room seemed to almost jump, becoming bright and angry. Details magnified a thousand fold. He could read the small print on the shampoo bottle in the bathroom from his seat on the bed.

He closed his eyes, his head beginning to ache. When he opened them again, the room had changed. He sat on a dais, his legs dangling a few feet above the ground. The room was cold and made of stone, the ceiling was high and there were no windows. If he looked down he knew he would see dark blood staining the floor. He had been here before. A soft scraping sound drew his attention. Turning, he tucked his legs beneath him and swiveled to the right. Voldemort sat staring at him, his dark red black eyes burning with hatred. There was blood smeared on his face and dripping from his chin. The dark wizard with blood stained robes stood to his left holding an empty bowl. A sick feeling settled in his stomach, his eyes flicked quickly over the room. Looking down he felt a fresh wave of nausea overwhelm him. A small blond girl lay beside the dais, her face turned toward the floor her tiny back very still.

Voldemort rose slowly to his feet, he reached the dais in four strides. His presence sent wave after wave of burning pain through his scar. Clasping a hand to his head, he stared at the Dark wizard, tears blurring his vision. Claw like fingers reached for him, grasping his throat and squeezing. Bright hot pain surged through his scar turning everything an angry white. Blinking, Harry sat gasping for breath, the light around him fading to reveal his room at Hogwarts.

His legs still felt weak, but he pushed himself to his feet anyway. Stumbling he made his way to the bathroom and promptly threw up. Rinsing his mouth he leaned against the wall, silent tears spilling from his eyes. _Get a grip on yourself_, he thought angrily, moving to the bathtub to fill it with water. Holding a hand under the steady flow of water he adjusted the temperature. Waiting for it to finish filling he removed his pajamas and then slowly lowered himself into the hot water. Classes start today, he thought irritated, _what a perfect beginning to the day_. He tried to relax, but his thoughts kept jumping back to Voldemort. _He saw me for sure this time_, he scrubbed his face, _I wasn't sure that last time but now..._ He sighed, the waking visions were always worse, clearer, sharper and apparently shared.

His thoughts turned to the attack. His body felt tired, but the pain had already bled itself out. _That has never happened before_, he thought slightly dazed, _I didn't even do anything, __I__ was asleep_. He finished his bath, and then dressed. Sitting down on his bed he found a piece of parchment and began to write.

**Higgs ****I had another **

He stopped and stared at the paper for a moment. _What am I doing?_ His free hand slid through his hair, _I don't need them running here and making a big deal out of nothing_. He stared at the words. _Or worse_, he thought, _after that last fiasco, all I need is for Higgs to not believe me_. He scowled at the writing, _he already proved he thinks I'm a child_. Putting the quill down, he crumpled the parchment and tossed it into the garbage. _And I'm not telling __Draco__ either_.

_**Part 2 No one should smile when you insult them**_

Severus Snape entered the Great Hall like a dark storm cloud. He strode quickly to the High Table and took his customary chair at the far end. The empty seat between himself and Professor Quincy Hart did not go unnoticed. Snape shot the Defense Professor a sneer before the man could call out a greeting. Pouring himself a cup of tea, the Potions Master scanned the faces of the other Professors. The only person missing was Potter, _and why am I not surprised_? He glanced toward the Hall's entrance, half expecting the boy to come walking in, but the only figures streaming past the doors were students. Hart was holding a conversation with himself, and Severus, not being one to eavesdrop, ignored him.

"I say, I wonder where Harry is?" the man repeated slightly louder.

Buttering a piece of toast, the Potions Professor sent a glare toward him, "I'm sure I do not know."

The man sighed, "I haven't seen him since the other night, I hope he doesn't feel badly about what happened during the welcoming feast. I tried to tell him it was all right." Hart dumped a large helping of eggs onto his toast, "I wasn't offended or anything, I'm sure he was having a tiring day." He covered the eggs with another piece of toast, "I mean he was perfectly polite every other time I spoke with him."

"Hmm," Snape glared at nothing in particular. _Did the man actually think he cared_? Finishing his toast he waited to see if Hart had anymore inane babble to get off his chest. The silence that greeted him was promising.

He was nearly finished with his breakfast when the annoying man turned back to him, "You know," he began.

"No," Snape announced flatly, "I do not."

Hart raised an eyebrow, and then smiled, "I suppose Harry isn't coming to Breakfast then." He finished his second egg and toast sandwich, "I hope he hasn't forgotten what time class starts." Snape snorted, whether he was agreeing or annoyed, the Defense Professor did not know. But knowing Snape, it was probably a little of both.

Standing, the Potions Master glared disdainfully down at Hart, "As absolutely riveting as this conversation is, I have classes." He moved to leave, but paused, "And Hart, when you have the second year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students in your clutches, be sure to remind them you were responsible for my cheery disposition during their first class." Leaving before the man could reply, he swept from the Great Hall heading toward the dungeons.

Snape grimaced, there was something disturbing about a man you could insult to his face and get a smile in return. Striding purposefully through the halls, he headed directly for the stairs. The man made _his_ skin crawl, and the irony was not wholly lost on him, it should have been the other way around. His dour countenance should have instilled some form of mistrust or loathing in the other man, however it seemed to fuel his glee instead. Contrary to popular belief, he disliked the Defense Professor for reasons other than the man's job. The man was hiding something, he could feel it. He had not been a spy for so long to not trust his instincts. Besides, he had been correct in the past, perhaps not about all of them, but enough of them. If the Headmaster was not going to trust him on this, then so be it, he would continue to watch the man on his own.

Nothing had happened the previous year, but now Potter was back. Snape sneered, and was that merely a coincidence? He paused, _but how could the man __have__ know the boy would return_? He scowled, _all right, maybe I am being slightly paranoid, __he__ couldn't have known Potter would be back_. He narrowed his eyes, _and no one would wait through an entire school year in hopes the boy would return_, he frowned, _would they_? He pressed his lips together, _I'll ask __Albus__ when he decided to return to teach a second term, whether it was before or after he heard Harry Potter was returning to Hogwarts_. Moving forward once more he scattered a group of fourth years discussing their trivial lives.

There was a fakeness about the man, no matter that Snape seemed to be the only fool able to see it. He had the entire staff singing his praises, all except Severus. His polite exterior hid something. His smile was quick and easy, masking everything. He was overly polite, and seemed too interested in what others were doing. He was never upset, and merely smiled when he was insulted. No one smiled when you insulted them, _no one_. Half the time he seemed an imbecile, the other half he seemed to know more than he let on. His smile appeared pleasant, but Snape knew it for what it was, silent mockery. And he seemed too interested in Harry Potter. _I warned you __Albus_, he thought irritably, _do not cry to me when something happens to your precious boy. I am not responsible for him, I refuse to be his guardian_, he thought angrily. _I will not be involved_. He entered his office, and sat down. He had a few hours before his classes started, that gave him just enough time to decide upon the best way of watching both the Defense Professor and Potter at the same time.

_**Part 3 A Fascinating **__**curiosity**_

Harry had made his way to his office, spending the early morning hours poring over several ancient looking books he was sure held answers he was just too dimwitted to find. He would have asked Hermione to help, but she would eventually realize exactly why he was researching such an odd subject and he did not want anyone else worried. Highlighting several hopeful passages he put the huge book down. There were bent pages throughout the entire monstrosity, marking pages he wanted to re-read. Scraps of paper scrawled with notes marked other pages; ones he hoped held useful information. The book overall looked as if he had thrown it from the Astronomy Tower and kicked it down the stairs a few times for good measure. Ratty pages stuck out randomly attempting to escape the binding. The cover was faded, the dull silver letters of the title barely visible.

At some point Dobby had shown up unexpectedly carrying a large tray filled with tea and biscuits. He drank the tea and ate one of the biscuits. He decided to refrain from going to breakfast, knowing the smell of food would only play havoc on his nausea. He had sent a note to Dumbledore with Dobby letting the older wizard know he would be absent from the High Table that morning, but did not go into any details. He had spent several hours reading and copying notes into the large leather bound book which housed all of his written thoughts and remembered dreams. The Headmaster had given it to him after _the incident_. He did not like to think about those three days, and he did not think Draco did either.

Slipping both books into a drawer in his desk he locked it with his password, "Ssss hisss thsssss." He supposed some of Higgs' paranoia had rubbed off on him. If he had learned one thing from the man, it was to never use a password that someone could guess by getting to know you. Using Parseltongue for all of his passwords had seemed the only logical choice. Because as far as Harry knew the only other wizard alive who knew Parseltongue was Voldemort, and if the Dark Wizard somehow ended up in Harry's office, he knew he would have a lot more to worry about than him snooping around in his things. Stretching, he stood and made his way to the door. Placing a hand on the doorknob he closed his eyes, _do not be up a tower_. Opening it he smiled, he was directly across from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Entering the room he was greeted by Professor Hart, "Good morning Harry, we missed you at breakfast."

"We?"

The man smiled, "Professor Snape and I."

"Right," he replied, eyebrows rising with the word. _You lie pretty well Professor_, he thought, looking around the room, "Where should I sit?"

Hart slid a chair over to the side of his desk, "Is that all right?" Harry nodded and sat down. The defense instructor handed him a scroll, "Would you like to take attendance?" Watching as the younger wizard accepted the list, he sat down behind his desk, "We have second and third years today. Second year Gryffindors to start with, and then Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, our third years are Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs." Harry listened while scanning the attendance scrolls. There were going to be a lot of names to remember.

The classes went by quickly and with little problems. Some of the students had difficulty paying attention, but once they grew tired of staring at Harry they settled down. _Hopefully I'll become less and less interesting as the term wears on_, he thought with a sigh. The many staring eyes made him feel uncomfortable, and he was grateful when lunch came. Instead of joining Professor Hart in the Great Hall, he stayed in the Defense classroom. He should have been accustomed to people watching him, they had through most of his seven years as a student, but he had never gotten used to it. The last three years at Haven Harry Potter had stayed hidden from the wizarding world. He had fought as a nameless and faceless wizard. It had been Higgs' idea. No one knew the names of any of their members; as far as anyone was concerned they worked for a branch of the Ministry. The others came and went as they pleased, he and Draco however stayed at Haven whenever possible. Harry stayed more out of comfort, Draco had no choice in the matter.

The classes after lunch went smoothly, the students watched him expectantly, but when he failed to do anything spectacular they eventually turned their attention to the lesson. Watching the last students shuffle out the door, craning their necks to get a last look at him, Harry smiled. _That wasn't too bad_, he decided. If the rest of the week went as well he would have nothing to worry about. Gathering the notes he had taken during Hart's lectures, he tried to organize them. Mostly he had watched the students, glancing at the attendance scroll and trying to put faces to their names. He had made a list while taking roll, filling in a piece of parchment by positioning their names on the paper according to where they sat. Feeling a bit more confident, Harry excused himself from Professor Hart and left to find his office.

The table before the fireplace held a steaming teapot and a tray filled with cream scones. Blinking, Harry sat down on the couch and poured himself some of the tea. Having skipped breakfast and lunch, he found himself extremely hungry. Picking up one of the scones, which had been covered generously with cream and strawberry jam, he began to eat. He knew dinner would be served in an hour or so, but he was too hungry to care. His stomach had settled itself, and the scones were exceptionally good. Sitting back on the couch, he crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. He found himself yawning, and leaned back to rest his eyes for just a moment.

_The first thing he noticed was how cold he was, not cold like during the winter but an inner cold that no matter how long you stood before a fire you could not warm yourself from. However, his hands and face were warm, almost flushed. The cold did not come from the outside; it came from within him, deep and painful. It lay curled in the pit of his stomach, sleeping inside him. It rolled in him, waiting patiently, hungrily. The cold frightened him, it was feeding on him. It was slowly draining his energy, and it would slowly drain him until there was nothing left for himself._

_It was dark, but not frighteningly so, it was more of a comforting twilight than anything else. A soft pale moon hung in the sky above, illuminating the night around him. He moved forward, and felt rather than saw the dog-like creature beside him. "Hello Baku." The pale blue dog pressed lightly against his leg. "Guarding me tonight are you?" Fur softer than a rabbit's brushed against his outstretched hand, and warmth replaced the cold within him for a moment, "thank you."_

_"Potter?__where__ are we?" he turned to see a familiar pale blond wizard standing only a few feet away._

_He sat beside the blue dog, stroking the soft fur, "my dream." He sent a lazy look __Draco__'s way, "don't tell me you expect me to give a report to Higgs right now."_

_The wizard dropped to the ground beside him, and looked closer at the dark haired young man beside him, "You look different." Harry gave him a glare, "oh right," he said apologetically, "sorry." He turned his attention to his surroundings instead. Blinking, he looked in every direction. The landscape faded outward around Harry, becoming hazy and indistinguishable the farther it was from the young wizard. The harder he looked, the harder it became to see. "This is not right."_

_"You're the one disturbing me." The large dog laid its head in his lap comfortingly._

_Draco__ frowned at the dog, "What is that?" The creature turned swirling gold eyes on him, and he felt all at once warm, safe and very small._

_"Baku," Harry replied softly, "he keeps me safe sometimes." He stroked the soft blue head, "he lives in the place between."_

_Gray eyes watched him carefully, "between what?"_

_"Between the living and the spirit," he leaned down to hug the huge dog, looking very childlike and small._

_"How did you come across him," he frowned, "I mean why __is he__ here with you? Shouldn't he be off where he belongs?"_

_Pale hands continued to pet the warm fur, "He found me when," he paused, "during the incident."_

_Draco__ bit his lip, not especially interested in discussing the time his friend meant. His own memories were still __painful,__ he closed his eyes and allowed __Harry's__ voice to wash over him. "I think he helped Sirius as well. I mean, from what he told me I'm fairly certain Baku was the one who guided him back through the veil." His voice was soft, "That's partly how I know he lives __**between**__. Sirius wasn't dead, but he wasn't truly alive either."_

_Draco__'s eyes immediately flew back open, "Did you die!?" He sputtered slightly, "I mean back then, had you been dead for a moment or something? Is that why he found you?"_

_"I'm not sure, maybe." His fingers slipped into the soft fur entangling __themselves__ in the warmth, "I don't remember exactly." He looked upward to the expanding blackness, "It hurt so badly, and I wanted to get away so desperately, and then Baku was there and it didn't hurt anymore." He scratched behind the creature's ears, "I think he protects children. He's led them over before." He smiled, "I don't know why he likes me so much though."_

_The blond reached out a hand tentatively, "Could I pet him?"_

_Harry moved his arm out of the way. The dog-like creature waited patiently for the young man to place an unsure hand on his back. He slipped his hand through the creature's coat, "It's soft," he whispered. He smiled when the dog lifted its large head to regard him with its huge golden eyes, "hello," he greeted apprehensively. He looked to Harry then, "does he like me?"_

_"He wouldn't let you pet him otherwise."_

_Draco__ gazed into the gold eyes, "Maybe he protects the innocent," he stroked the soft fur, "children are innocent after all." He drew his hand back, a thought occurring to him, "Harry, maybe you __**were**__ dying." He shivered slightly, "What if he was trying to lead you over?"_

_"Maybe."_

_That's it? __Draco__ thought angrily. He watched the dog __nervously,__ maybe he's still trying to lead you over Harry. The young man shifted uncomfortably, maybe he's just waiting. He watched the creature nudge __Harry's__ hand. He sighed, "Higgs does expect me to give him a report though."_

_"Tell him I'm fine. I've eaten and I'm getting some sleep. My first day of classes went well and I haven't broken or bent any rules." He rested his arms on the dog, "I'm not going to go running off and I won't leave Hogwarts." He contemplated telling him about the vision, but changed his mind. "Oh," he looked as if he had just remembered something, "and __tell__ him everyone is invited to Ron and Hermione's wedding so I need to know how many want to go." He settled a dark look on __Draco__, "And __tell__ him that if he thinks for one second he can stop me from going to my two best friends' wedding he is sorely misinformed."_

_The blond nodded, "okay, now could you just wake up so that I can deliver all of that?"_

_Harry crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, "Not on your life."_

Draco may not have been pleased with having to wait for Harry to wake up naturally, but neither had Harry been pleased to discover he had missed dinner. When he had finally opened his eyes, the clock in his office had told him it was nearly three in the morning. Massaging his temples he felt Draco's presence flicker out. After such a restful sleep he felt refreshed. Standing he stretched, and headed to his room for a shower and clean clothes.

He did not bother drying his hair, instead he just ran a towel over it and left. Walking, he let the familiar pull draw him toward the wayward office. He whistled merrily, pausing once to nod a greeting toward Mrs. Norris as she prowled silently down the halls. Descending another set of stairs, he entered the dungeons and nearly laughed. Walking slowly ahead of him was Snape. The man seemed to have just left his office and was heading to bed. He shook his head, _three in the morning, and he has to be up to breakfast by eight o'clock_. Humming to himself he drew up alongside the Potions Master, "Good Morning Professor."

Severus jerked to a halt, and stared at the retreating back of Harry Potter as he continued down the hall. The annoying boy was nearly to the corner, "See you at breakfast," he turned and was gone. He blinked, _good morning_? Moving to his door he gave a half hearted sneer, _the boy was insane_.

Harry arrived early for breakfast that morning. Dumbledore was talking companionably to McGonagall when he entered, the old man's eyes following him to the table. Pausing, he looked to the three chairs at the end of the table. Looking up he saw the Headmaster's blue eyes were still turned toward him. Sighing, he pulled the middle chair out and sat down. Dumbledore smiled and nodded to him, a few of the other Professors regarded him with something akin to reverence. Harry shook his head, _he's just a nasty mean tempered bastard, it's not like eating by him is dangerous_. He frowned at the empty chair beside him, _I can ignore him if I have to_.

Taking a cup he poured himself some tea and watched as Professor Hart joined him at the table. The man smiled, "Good Morning Harry, I'm pleased to see you were able to join us today." He reached for a tall glass, filling it with Pumpkin Juice, "When you failed to show up for dinner a few of the Professors were worried." His smile had shrunk to a simple curl of the lips, "One more so than the others," he set his glass down, his eyes unreadable, "you might even say a bit of foul play was insinuated."

Harry blinked, _what was he talking about_? "I was in my office, I guess I lost track of time." _Try __fell__ asleep out of exhaustion_. He frowned, "And why would anyone be worried? I only missed dinner it's not as if I disappeared..." he cleared his throat, "anyway who accused who of foul play?"

"I'm sorry I brought it up Harry," the older wizard replied apologetically, "I'm not one to gossip so we'll just leave it at that shall we." Green eyes narrowed slightly, _leave it at that_? Hart took a drink of his juice, "It was hardly anything to even mention, he just got a little overexcited is all." Harry waited, the man seemed to keep talking when he did not receive an answer. "I mean, it's quite silly really, he didn't actually accuse me of anything, just mentioned I was the last person to see you, and that it seemed odd you hadn't shown up for dinner after missing both previous meals."

"Who said-"

"Ah," the Defense Instructor smiled, cutting him off, "look who's joined us this morning Severus," he glanced pointedly to Harry as he said the other Professor's name, "young Mr. Potter."

Snape glared at both of them as he took his seat. Hart's grin spread, "Harry was just telling me how he lost track of time in his office last night. He missed dinner completely." The man looked nearly vicious, "but we already knew that didn't we."

Harry watched the Potions Master grab a cup and angrily pour tea into it. _Why would __Snape__ worry Hart had done away with me just because I missed dinner_? He frowned, _why would __Snape__ worry about me period_? Puzzling over this new bit of information, he ate his breakfast in silence. Both Professors flanking him eyed him throughout his toast and porridge. A shiver crept up his spine, the uncomfortable feeling of being watched pressed in on him from both sides. Putting his tea down he tapped the table idly. "With all of this attention," he spoke softly, but it carried to both men sitting beside him, "I feel as if I should be doing something more entertaining." Getting up, he pushed his chair in, "Excuse me Professors, I think I'll get ready for class now."

_**Part 4 Rumors around every corner**_

"He's here hiding out from You Know Who, something happened and the war is going real bad so he has to lay low for a while."

"That's not what I heard," an older boy's voice whispered, "I heard the Ministry sent him here to catch Death Eater spies." There were a few shocked gasps, "An you know what else, they say some of the teachers are involved."

"No," a girl this time, "that can't be true!"

"Why not?" another boy, "it's no less believable than what I heard on the train." He lowered his voice, "and if he is hiding from You Know Who, then we're all in trouble."

There was a hushed silence, "Do you know what they're saying in the Ravenclaw common room," a soft spoken girl began, her voice trembling slightly, "they're saying he heard," she swallowed, "he heard You Know Who is going to attack Hogwarts and that's why he came back. To try and stop him."

"Bloody hell! Do you think that could be true?" There was a tiny whimper.

"Oh look what you've done now April!" Another girl, "You're terrifying Abrams little sister."

Harry turned the corner, he knew they were talking about him, he had been hearing similar rumors all week. There was a group of maybe eleven students crowded together talking in hushed voices. Striding past the secretive group he saw them jump guiltily, nodding in their direction he continued down the hall. Well, he decided, _at least they haven't started claiming I'm in league with __Voldemort_. Stopping before the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor's office, he knocked.

The man's voice was heard almost immediately, "Come in."

Opening the door, Harry entered the older wizard's office. His stomach sank, it was smaller than the office Dumbledore had given him. It was cluttered from end to end with varying oddities. Shelves filled an entire wall, books lining the top three rows while the rest were occupied by potions, potion ingredients, herbs and potted plants. Stacks of books lay haphazardly about the room, creating a maze from the door to the Professor's desk. A trunk filled with scrolls sat in the corner beside his desk, left open and overflowing. A table along the opposite wall was laid down with various specimens and drawings of the many fantastic creatures the students would be studying. Closing the door behind him he gave the man a small smile, "I wrote out the signup sheet for the students." He held it out to the other wizard.

Hart looked it over, "It looks fine, would you like to post it on Monday?"

He thought for a moment, _I've sat in on his classes for two weeks now, I think I've disrupted them long enough_, "Yes, that would be perfect."

The Defense Professor smiled, "All right then, I think it would be best if before, shall we say each period of the day, you begin by making a short announcement to the students about the sheet, which we can hang beside the door. That way they can ask any questions they may have before they leave for the day." Harry nodded, deciding one last day in the man's classroom would be alright. Hart nodded along with him, "Yes, that does seem best," or perhaps he was simply agreeing with himself, "I'm certain there will be some questions for you, and you will probably need to explain the sheet to each class this week."

Harry felt his stomach drop, _each class_, but nodded a second time, resigning himself to one more week in the Defense classroom. Hart clapped his hands together with a smile, "Good, very good, and now that that's settled, would you care to join me for a cup of tea?" He held his hand out to a chair sitting beside his desk. Harry quieted the sigh which tried to escape, he would have rather left the cramped office immediately. He could not explain it, but sometimes he felt as if the Professor was silently assessing him, watching him and waiting for something. Taking the seat, Harry accepted the proffered cup. It would have been rude not to. The man might be a bit odd, but he was still a Professor at Hogwarts.

He drank some of the tea, and listened to the man as he spoke, "Now Harry, I hope you haven't been put out by all of the rumors flying about the school."

"Not really sir," he sighed softly, "I've had to deal with this sort of thing before."

The man nodded, "Well I'm sure it will die down in a month or so, they won't even remember all of the silly things they made up." He laughed, "Most of what they're saying isn't too bad, they're scaring themselves more than anything else."

Harry nodded, "Yes, I've heard some rather inventive stories."

Hart smiled, taking another drink of his tea, "You should have heard some of the things they said about me when I first started teaching." Harry smiled, he could guess some of what had probably been whispered. No one had really trusted new Defense instructors, not after the run Hogwarts had had with them. The wizard set his cup down, "Just know that if you need someone to speak to, I'm almost always here."

The younger wizard stood, "Thank you sir, I'll remember that."

It was mid afternoon Saturday when Hermione's care package arrived. Harry was sitting at his desk when a familiar tap tap at his window drew his attention. There were two owls waiting impatiently on the sill, a large package held between them. Letting the large birds inside, he took their heavy burden and rewarded them with water and some of Hedwig's treats. Clearing his desk off, he tore the package open. A neat white letter sat atop the rest of the items. Picking the parchment up he recognized Hermione's precise writing instantly.

**Harry,**

**How are you? I know Ron wrote you, but I just had to send you a note as well. I sent you some things I thought you might be able to use. Mrs. ****Weasley**** added a couple of items as well. I hope you are enjoying your position at Hogwarts, let me know if you need anything. **Hermione's way of asking if there was anything wrong. **You know you can tell Ron and me anything, we're always going to be there for you.**

**Ginny is really excited about going with you to the wedding. I'm glad you asked her, your timing was perfect.** Harry smiled, her way of asking if Ron had anything to do with it. **I hope you're settled in all right. I know the letter you sent Ron said we could see you over the weekend, but we had a problem here so could we make it next Saturday? I can't wait to see you, and I am so sorry we can't come today. I feel terrible, and Ron won't stop sulking.**

**I hope you like your ****package,**** I tried to time it so that you would receive it in private. I am really sorry if I caught you at a bad time, I know how you like your privacy.**

**We all love you here Harry,**

_**Hermione**_

He was a bit disappointed they would not be meeting him this weekend, but he understood. The Ministry kept them busy and if Hermione said something had happened that required their attention, then something important was going on. Turning back to the package he lifted a soft green jumper from the top of the pile. Mrs. Weasley, he thought with a smile. Underneath he found a tin filled with cookies with a note attached.

**Harry dear, enjoy the sweater and the cookies. (She doesn't want me to tell you, but Ginny made the cookies herself)****-Molly ****Weasley**

Harry smiled to himself, setting the cookies to the side. All that was left, was a small blue box, a box of tea, a white envelope that had to be Ron's letter and three large books. Claiming the letter first, he ripped it open.

**Harry ****mate,**** how's everything? So glad you wrote back! Herm probably already told you we can't make it this weekend. Damn bloody Ministry, they think they can run everyone's life! Anyway, we'll be sure to see you in a week, even if we have to sneak away. This business with stolen ****auror**** paper work and equipment is odd to say the least. I mean who would want twenty year old paper work? And the stuff they stole was ****useless,**** robes, boots, and I think someone mentioned some personal possessions from ****auror's**** who had been killed. What is this world coming to when old junk isn't even safe? I don't know why they're keeping us here for something so weird!**

**But, Ginny told me you wrote her, well mum did, Ginny was too busy blushing. I'm glad you decided to take ****her,**** you two are going to have a great time you'll see.**

**Well**** see you soon (hopefully this Ministry business will sort itself out quickly)**

_**Ron**_

Harry smiled, Hedwig had returned with Ginny's reply the day after he had sent her the note. He opened his desk and added Hermione and Ron's letters to the small pile, Ginny's answer lay beside them, an eloquently written, _I would love to_, gracing its surface.

Closing the drawer he turned back to the last few items in the package. He read the side of the tea box, it claimed it could calm restless dreams, he smiled, _thanks Hermione_. Setting the tea down, he picked up the blue box, inside there was a small black stone and a note. He picked up the stone, it fit in his palm easily, almost perfectly. The note only had one line written on it, it read:

_Guardian Stone believed to be able to protect one soul from harm_.

He put the stone back in its box and pocketed it. The rest he would look through later. Hermione always sent the most interesting books on curses.

"That's ridiculous Darryl! Don't you think Professor Dumbledore would have noticed?" Snape paused, he had been hearing students gossiping all week. "I mean really," the boy who was speaking sounded extremely put off, "why would the Ministry send him here of all places? If their only goal was to make people believe he was still alive why wouldn't they just have him show up in Diagon Alley or the like?" There was a murmur, "Sending him here would only cause problems, I mean he went to school here, don't you think the Professors would notice?"

"They're probably all in on it!" Another boy cried indignantly, "I mean if he had died they wouldn't want anyone to know either!"

"Now you're being silly. First they would have had to cover up his death, and I think that would have been really hard to do. Then they would have had to figure out a way to make someone else look exactly like him. Then they would have had to convince Dumbledore and all the other Professors to let the fake come here and pretend to be Harry Potter." He sounded exasperated, "Or they would have had to train him to act exactly like him so that he could trick the entire staff. And it still doesn't explain why they would wait this long to produce the fake or why they would use Hogwarts. It seems like a whole lot of trouble to me."

"Ha! They waited this long because they had to train him and get him to look like the real Harry Potter!" The other boy sounded pleased with himself, "And they're probably testing him here, they figure if he can fool people who knew Harry Potter then he can fool anyone."

"Oh don't be daft Darryl."

"I am not! You're the one being a git Crispin!"

There was a soft shuffling, "Then tell me, when did Harry Potter supposedly die?"

"Well," there was a conspiratorial whisper, "I shouldn't say anything, but a few years ago he disappeared for three days." Snape frowned, how did this boy know about Potter's mysterious disappearance? "My father was one of the officials called in to investigate, they found him, or rather he found them."

"So."

"So!" the boy exclaimed, "so he was killed and they just pretended they found him." There were a few horrified gasps.

"I don't believe that, it's just too stupid."

"You shouldn't act so high and mighty Crispin," a female voice reprimanded, "I heard something very similar to what Darryl just said, but what I heard was far worse."

"What was it Zinia?" an excited whisper had broken out.

"Well," she began, "I heard that You Know Who killed Mr. Potter, and that he sent a Death Eater here disguised as him." There were gasps and whimpers, and then a snorted laugh, "What do you think is so funny Mar?"

"That, that," he wheezed, "that was the singularly most absurd thing I have ever heard in my entire life." He continued to laugh, "To think you would repeat that," he sounded as if he was having trouble speaking through his laughter, "where did you hear it? I bet you heard it from Avena Conner, that girl thinks everyone is a Death Eater."

"You're a horrid boy Crispin, a horrid boy." She sounded near tears, "I hate you."

"Oh don't cry Nia, I didn't say you were absurd, just what you said."

"It's the same thing!"

"You know what this means don't you?" Darryl broke in, "It means I was right! You-Know-Who probably killed him three years ago and now wants to send his followers here to destroy Hogwarts. He's probably after Dumbledore!"

"Professor Dumbledore! That's awful, shouldn't someone do something?" Loud sobs started to break out. Snape scowled, he would put a stop to this.

"Oh shove off Green, you said the Ministry sent him not You-Know-Who. Now you're just helping to scare the younger children." Snape raised an eyebrow, young Mr. Mar seemed to be angrier than he found himself, a rare thing indeed. Perhaps he would wait a moment more and see what happened.

"But what if he's right Crispin? The DE's-"

"Yeah Crispin, it seems awfully coincidental-"

An angry snort, "Coincidental? What seems coincidental? You're just putting a bunch of random things together and mixing it with your own idiotic imagination to come up with this rubbish." No one said anything, so he continued, "I've been hearing all sorts of rumors around this school, and none of them are founded," Snape could almost hear the glare, "none of them!" There was a brief pause, "How do you think Mr. Potter must feel hearing you talk like that? You should all be ashamed."

"How do you know he's heard any of it?" a female voice demanded.

"If we've heard it, I'm sure he has as well."

"Well I heard something completely different anyway," a younger boy announced suddenly, Mar's sigh was barely audible over the excited whispers that followed. "Nothing about him not being the real Harry Potter though. But, I did hear he's working with the Ministry to try and root out Death Eaters." Snape had heard this before, it seemed to be the most popular of all the rumors.

"Have any of you heard a word I've said?"

"Sod off Mar, I want to hear what he has to say." There was a chorus of agreeing students, "And it seems as if I'm not the only one."

"Right then," the boy continued, "the Ministry sent him here cause they know that someone on the staff is a Death Eater." There were drawn in breaths, "And that's not all, they also want him to watch us, cause they think some of the students might be either thinking of joining You-Know-Who or already have."

"I bet I know a few of them too!"

"You don't know anything Shan, so you best keep your mouth shut." The Potions Master knew the last two, he recognized the girls' voices. Surina Shan and Dale Morgan were both six year Slytherins.

"Afraid I'll say someone you know Morgan? We all know your dirty blood won't let you be a Death Eater."

There was a laugh and a scuffle, "Ignore her Dale, she's just trying to wind you up." Snape supposed Mar was trying to hold the small Slytherin back. Shan and Morgan fought worse than Malfoy and Potter ever had, he had seen the two girls in his office more times than he wished to see anyone. Shan came from a wealthy family, she was spoiled and prejudiced against those she found below her social class. Morgan was the daughter of a witch and a muggle, enough reason to gain Shan's disdain. The fact that Morgan had ended up in Slytherin with Shan brought them together far too often.

"Oh really, well I heard David Griffiths tell Christina Price that his father was going to let him become a Death Eater this summer," a hushed silence followed Shan's surprising statement, "and she seemed really impressed."

"You're making that up!" Zinia Barnes cried angrily, "David is in Ravenclaw, I know him he would never-"

"I heard it!" the other girl shrieked, "They were whispering about it behind the bleachers on the Quidditch pitch." Snape froze, he would have to tell Dumbledore about this, if the girl was telling the truth- "and you know what else, he seemed extremely bothered by the fact that Harry Potter was back at Hogwarts." Her voice was filled with arrogance, "So don't tell me I don't know anything."

"But David-"

"Oh get over it Barnes, even you studious little Ravenclaws can be corrupted."

"None of this proves Mr. Potter is here to weed out death Eaters."

"No," Green agreed, "but have you noticed how he watches us during Defense class? Almost like he's studying us."

"Yes," the younger boy who had started them on this path cried out excitedly, "and did you notice how he's always writing things down? Like he's keeping track of what we say and do."

"Oh please," Mar scoffed, "He's probably just working on something."

"Yeah, like which ones of us are Death Eaters."

Snape had finally had enough of their gossip. Putting on his best sneer he strode impressively around the corner. They were grouped together, their backs toward him, "Mr. Green and Miss Barnes 10 points from both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw for spreading rumors." His eyes caught sight of the third transgressor, "and Mr. Pearson," the boy who had declared Potter had returned to hunt Death Eaters, "10 points from Gryffindor for the same reason." Watching them jump should have been pleasure enough, but he would have preferred to see them scatter.

The Potions Professor was nearly around the corner when he heard a familiar voice declare, "Well what do you expect, he's obviously the one the Ministry suspects."

Severus stopped himself from spinning back toward the group; instead he allowed his legs to carry him around the corner. Pausing, he drew his wand and cast an eavesdropping charm on himself. The children's voices rang clearly down the hall to him.

"What do you mean?"

"Well haven't you noticed how Mr. Potter always sits next to him during meals?" Snape frowned, the boy did seem to always end up next to him, but he had tended to blame that on Hart. "I mean no one ever wanted to sit next to Snape before, I always thought it was a sort of punishment for being late to meals."

"What does that have to do with anything? Mr. Potter's new, Professor Hart got stuck next to him for most of last year." Morgan pointed out.

"Yes, but that was because he always came to meals right before they started." Green was talking again, "I study Transfiguration with Claire Reid every Monday and Wednesday morning in the Great Hall before breakfast," he paused, "and guess what I saw last week Wednesday?"

"What?" several impatient voices prodded.

"Mr. Potter came in and sat down next to Snape's chair, and Professor Hart wasn't at the table yet." The boy sounded giddy, "And he did the same thing last Monday and Wednesday, and I'll bet he's been doing the same thing every other day as well."

"So? Maybe he feels bad for him cause no one ever wants sit next to him."

"Mar tell your sister to grow up," Green laughed, "feels bad for him indeed. He's sitting next to him so that he can keep an eye on him."

"And what about Professor Hart?" Barnes asked suddenly, "he's always sitting next to him as well."

"Maybe he's watching both of them," Pearson supplied.

"Or," Mar began, "He just sits there because he wants to."

"Don't be daft, no one _wants_ to sit by Professor Snape, even the Slytherins know that!" Shan replied haughtily.

"Exactly," Green agreed.

"But he is with Professor Hart more," the Ravenclaw began again, "he sits in on all of his classes." The girl seemed to be thinking, "I mean, if the Ministry had sent him to find Death Eaters and they had suspected Professor Snape then why did they make Mr. Potter an assistant to Professor Hart?"

"I don't know everything," Green exclaimed, but then his voice grew quieter, "Of course you could be right about Hart, but I'd still put my money on Snape."

"Well I mean he is the most likely," Pearson answered knowingly, "but I think I'd watch both of them anyway."

Severus removed the charm and glared, shortly the entire school would be giving each other knowing looks as he passed. _Damn bloody children_! He started down the hall toward the dungeons, this was what happened when you allowed the different Houses to fraternize, they pooled their stupidity. Not long ago it would have been extremely odd to see a group of students from all four Houses hanging around one another. During his time as a student the four Houses had stayed quite happily to themselves. The House rivalries had been intact and running strong, there had been none of this mingling he had begun to see lately. Even during Potter's years at Hogwarts Slytherin and Gryffindor had hated one another, they had carried on the House rivalry with fervor. It had not been until after Potter's year had graduated that this odd behavior had started. Of course, the old House lines had begun unraveling years ago, he had seen it even before Potter had started school. It had simply been the addition of the Death Eater's children that had reawakened the House fighting to such a degree, now that they were gone the school was quieter and the House lines had begun to blur once again.

He stormed down the staircase, by supper he would be a Death Eater, Harry Potter would be watching him, Hart would be his accomplice and they would be planning the destruction of Hogwarts. He blamed Potter for this.

TBC

_What could Professor Hart be hiding? Or is __Snape__ only paranoid?__Is Baku waiting to try and take Harry to the Spirit realm?__Why would someone steal old __auror__ equipment?__And will the school ever stop gossiping?_

As always not one of these questions will be answered in the next gripping installment of "Blood & Dust", but there will be some Sirius trouble.


End file.
